Alternate Ending
by Andromeda1111
Summary: This story is being reimagined and posted as Mirror (working title). For a more updated version please visit it on my page. :) Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**A while back I started this story as one of my first ever pieces of fanfiction. Back then I didn't anticipate the popularity this simple, poorly thought out story would acquire. And, though it's not as widely reknowned as some other great works I am proud of it and felt horribly when I was forced into a regretably long hiatus. Now, as a thanks to those of you who have been with this story since it's birth I know am proud to announce that I will begin tending to this story again. However, due to the age of it I will be taking the time to give it the facelift it deserves. Please, if you are just starting this story, be patient with me as I update all the chapters. For those of you who know and love this story, enjoy. :)**

**Love, Andy**

**P.s I do not claim to own any of these characters. **

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><p>"Christine, I love you."<p>

Her eyes were closed against his words - against her confusion and hurting heart. Moments ago she had stood appalled by the man she had believed to be her angel as he twisted and manipulated her. He had threatened to destroy the very foundation that she relied on, yet when he sent her away she stayed. Although her mind implored her to flee with Raoul her feet remained planted firmly in place. Tilting her fist forward she felt the cold metal ring roll, pressing the emerald stone into the soft skin of her palm.

Jolting wide open her blue rimmed pupils dilated and she stared into Erik's tear-blurred face. The hot moisture fell onto her cheeks, no longer held at bay by her lids. Reaching forward she grabbed his wrist and shakily released the ring back to him. Realization creased his face though he remained silent. Drawing his hand back to him he straightened his form like a proud gentleman. It was time to leave. She knew it deep in her soul that she could not stay here.

He had asked her to choose, and she had. She had chosen to readily stay with him, a man who believed himself to be a deplorable monster, to save Raoul. Despite his deformed face and soul she had kissed him. And, that moment had changed everything. She grew to understand him the way no had ever bothered to. Erik was a man who only craved her love and she had betrayed him the moment she had pledged herself to Raoul. But when he had won, when he finally possessed the one thing he craved above anything, he chose to let her go. The monster had vanished beneath her trembling lips.

And she wanted nothing more than to remain by his side, to be the one who could give him all the love he deserved. To take the time it would take to chase his demons away with every kiss and caress.

"I - I can't," she whispered stumbling backwards with the force of her passion. Fresh tears began to fall. However, they were no longer tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. She still had a choice and, this time, she would not let him take that away from her. "I won't leave you."

Perhaps too terrified to speak he remained just out of arms reach, poised at the ready. Angry footfalls echoed around them paired with the chant of the mob. They were coming, but neither of them were willing to move yet.

"You won't be safe with me," Erik said holding up his hand, the ring she had given to him now placed on his pinky finger.

"That doesn't matter to me," she assured him stepping forward. "As long as we are together I am happy."

Suddenly he rushed forward, seizing her face between his long and bony hands, he pressed his lips against hers. Clumsily, at first, until she guided him with patience and love. It didn't matter what his face looked like and she could forgive the things of the past. She was complete with him by her side.

As the enraged song grew louder in Christine's ears she pulled away, feeling slightly panicked. Gazing around her every shadow suddenly became incredibly hostile. When she looked back to where Erik had been standing she found only emptiness followed by his blackened figure as he quickly replaced his wig and mask. Restored to his mythical glory her insides ached to feel his kiss once more only, when he returned to her side, he simply took her hand into his own.

"We can't stay in Paris," he explained. "I'm a wanted man. We will be forced into a simple life and we may never be able to return here."

"It doesn't matter," she said breathlessly, the force of his hypnotic black eyes caused her thoughts to become sluggish and drowsy.

Straightening he hovered over. "Come."

And away they went, disappearing behind a smashed mirror and into the chilled night.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second chapter to be revised. I hope you all are enjoying the changes I made so far! As for you new readers, thanks for being so patient with the confusion of these changes. **

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><p>Stumbling through the darkness, over rocks and up steep inclines in a corseted wedding dress certainly wasn't as easy as she had originally anticipated. With Erik's guidance and firm grip on her hand they emerged through the cellar into the lavish Opera's gardens. Though, they hardly resembled the stunning garden now. Charred marble crumbled the pathway as the plants hissed with the sound of dying flame. Smoke filled the air around Christine as she stepped past Erik. Covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a horrified cry she bowed her head in regret. This had been her home, the place she had played as a child. Behind her she knew Erik was feeling equally mournful, perhaps even more so. He had poured so much into the Opera Populaire and here it lay in ashes at his feet.<p>

Turning 'round she offered a comforting smile, though her eyes remained filled with tears. His face was stoic and set in a hard line and Christine was proud of his bravery. Looping her arm through his they set off around to the courtyard. Left in no better of a state, abandoned carriages lay toppled on their sides on a bed of fabric and costumes that had escaped with the many actors and dancers. For a moment she thought about Meg and Madame Giry, did they escape? Were they still inside? Christine couldn't help but worry after them. They were all she had left in the world - other than Erik, of course.

"Wait!" A voice said from behind. Christine jumped at the sound and Erik's eyes instantly grew cold and dangerous. Fluidly he turned and positioned himself so that she was positioned protectively behind him.

In the distance the dark figure jumped over fallen pillars and was soon upon them. Christine hadn't needed to see his face to know who pursued them.

"Monsieur Viscount," Erik greeted detached and ready to fight if necessary.

"Release her," Raoul warned pointing the tip of his sword towards Erik's throat. Casting his puppy-dog brown eyes in her direction the agony written on his face nearly broke her. "Christine, my love, I should never have let you return to him. I should have known he would try to steal you away the moment my back was turned."

Ashamed by her treachery Christine hid her face from view and rested her head on Erik's back. Raoul still believed that she was being held against her will, that she was incapable of loving Erik. And why wouldn't he? She had abandoned him in the catacombs with nothing more than a false promise to return. Distraught she grabbed a fistful of Erik's coat, willing her ex-fiancé to stand down.

But she knew he wouldn't. Not without hearing it come from her lips. Gathering her courage Christine stepped beside Erik, taking his hand into her own for strength. Stubbornly she set her jaw and jutted her chin in the air proudly. "I've made my choice."

"No!" Raoul shouted, aggrieved. "I refuse to believe that you could love.../him/! He has you under some spell and he will pay!"

Raoul stepped forward his eyes violently dangerous and he rose his sword to strike Erik down. Defensively Christine's angel backed away, unarmed and unable to defend himself.

"Raoul, no!" Christine shouted as she placed herself between the battling men. Halfway through the action Raoul's arm froze in midair. Dropping his weapon his stumbled backwards, his eyes softening. Trembling she whispered hoarsely. "No."

Looking past her his eyes gazed threateningly towards Erik. "Would you really allow her to protect you?"

"Believe me, /precious/ viscount, she's the only reason I have yet to kill you." Erik was no longer a man but had resorted back the voice of the Phantom, dangerously violent and eager to kill.

"Raoul, please," Christine begged. The charged tension between the two men frightened her. They were like a coil, tense and ready for the slightest release to attack. "Let me go."

"Christine - I," the boy looked away, hiding his emotion from sight. When he looked back his desperation was gone. "I can't."

Before she could stop him Erik surged forward, using his cape to prevent Raoul from retrieving his weapon. Using his leg to unbalance Raoul, Erik sent the Viscount to the ground looking up at him from his back.

"You had the chance to kill me once," Erik hissed breathlessly. "Now, for Christine's sake, I will return the favor."

Erik backed away, allowing Raoul the freedom to prop himself up on his elbows. "Christine, if you leave with him you will regret this decision one day. And, when you do, I'll be waiting."

She was torn, if not slightly angered by Raoul's childish assumptions. But she knew there was nothing she could say that would convince him that she was perfectly sane. He loved her relentlessly and he would never stop searching for a way to 'release' her from her love for Erik.

"Raoul," Christine said gently. "I loved you once, but that was a long time ago. This is the path that I have chosen. Go, leave us, and forget me."

Looking up she met Erik's gaze and her heart filled with emotion. Written clearly on his face was confusion and disbelief that she could truly be choosing him over Raoul's security and beauty. She would gladly spend her life reassuring him that this was exactly where she wanted to be. Beside him, engulfed in their music, forever.

Reluctantly she removed her gaze to return her attention to Raoul. But he was gone. Stepping forward she searched and found his retreating form, stalking away with his head bent in defeat. Silently Erik placed his hand on her back and guided her towards the street. Although she was not regretful she couldn't help but consider the life she could have had with Raoul as they searched for a carriage to transport them out of Paris.  
>Although her career would have ended with the Opera house, her name would remain known throughout the city. With power and money to spare she would have undoubtedly found happiness in her position. She would have mothered children with Raoul, attended social events where Christine would have smiled and nodded courteously as other wealthy wives commented on her health but whispered about her humble beginnings behind her back. She was not from nobility and her dealings would the infamous Opera Ghost would be the topic of many conversations. There would be no more songs in her head and her dreams of performing would come to a bitter end. And that wasn't at all the life she had imagined for herself. Childhood love or no.<p>

A life filled with music, passion, and Erik was thrilling enough to take the place of what could have been. It didn't matter if they had money or power, so long as they were together she would be happy.

With his hand positioned lovingly on her back she lifted her skirt to avoid mud-puddles. Away from the burnt Opera Populaire the night suddenly became magical. She wasn't sure what to expect but excitement charged the crisp breeze.

Together they froze as a carriage solicited to them and Erik eagerly accepted the offer. As soon as the modest dingy drew up beside them Erik opened the door for her and she climbed inside.

"Take us to Boscherville," he instructed before climbing inside.  
>Sitting beside her, he closed the door and the carriage lurched forward heading towards the city's limits. Boscherville seemed like such an odd location for them, but, from what she new of the little village, it was somewhat out of the way. She supposed it was a good place for them to reside for a while.<p>

Now that they were alone she watched him with unhidden interest. He seemed distracted, distant even. He stared out the carriage window, pulling it open with long musical fingers. His other hand twitched, as they often did when he was distressed. Scooting closer Christine drew closer and leaned herself into his chest. She felt him jump at her sudden closeness but soon his arm was wrapped around her, warming her by his touch.

"I own a cottage in Boscherville," he explained awkwardly, as though he were searching for a reason to break the silence. "The caretaker died a few years ago. It will be empty for our use."

Christine hummed as she felt her eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion. "Does Boscherville have a priest?"

"I suppose so," Erik answered tentatively.

"Good," she exhaled nearly asleep. "We may need him."

Cuddling deeper into his coat she grabbed his coat protectively. Under her ear she could hear his heart pounding in his chest nervously. Despite her heavy lids she smiled before she drifted off into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3-

Sun streamed against her eye lids mercilessly. She groped around expecting to feel Erik's hard chest, instead there was nothing but pillows. She gasped awake as panic rose from deep inside. She looked around the small room, hoping to find some sign of him. On the pillow next to her rested a single rose with a black ribbon tied carefully to the stem. She heaved a great sigh of relief and picked it up, carefully fingering the delicate red petals.

Reassured Christine gazed about the room in which she had been laid. It was pleasant with a wide window to the right of her bed. Resting next to that was a closed wood wardrobe. The wood work was so elegant and handcrafted it took her breath away. There were several blankets folded at the foot of the bed and an open chest revealing a dozen more. The water basin was full and steaming, hinting that Erik had taken extra care to prepare for when she woke.

She sat up and gazed down at her dingy gown. It had been through enough roughness in just one night then it should have ever seen. It seemed a shame that Erik's hard work should be wasted so foolishly. She chastised herself for not caring enough to preserve it.

Christine ambled over to the basin and carefully poured the hot water into the china bowl. With a feeling of relief she dutifully cleaned the dirt from her skin. Not know what the wardrobe had to offer she walked towards it and carefully opened the beautiful doors. She was glad to see it was full of woman's clothing. She didn't care how Erik had come by the articles she was just glad to finally change into something fresh and crisp.

She chose a pretty rose pink gown and slipped it one. With a quick glance out the window Christine was stunned to see white hills as far as the eye could see. The sun illuminated them making them bright and happy. Gardening would have to wait for spring. She grabbed a woolen shawl and draped it over her shoulders amazed by the warmth it offered. Feeling once again presentable, with her pretty curls pinned partially up, she exited the room.

The hall was ill lit but Christine was able to see three closed doors, each held some mystery she was eager to uncover. For the time being she allowed the temptation to remain unfulfilled. She needed to find Erik, to kiss his lips and to know that all that had happened wasn't just a dream.

She bounded down the stairs, nearly tripping in the process. She expected to see him there, a faint smile upon his lips and his eyes sparkling handsomely. Instead the house remained vacant. There was a beautifully decorated parlor with a piano situated on the far wall and a feminine chair placed closely by it. The sofa was small and quaint, perfect.

In the next room Christine found a small round table cluttered with fruits and two bowls of porridge. The kitchen was just beyond the next door, though she didn't care to explore in there just yet. She wanted to see Erik, yet he remained elusive.

She stood perfectly still, listening for music. There was a faint jingle in the air, a tune that she was familiar with. With a smile she ran up the stairs once again, always careful to listen for the sound. As it grew louder she realized which door she must open. Her hand hovered over the handle before she tentatively turned and opened it.

Christine saw a stair case leading up to the attic. Her chest tightened as she began to climb. Just as she suspected the song grew louder. Her heart continued to pound as she reached the last step, it wasn't fear that gripped her. She didn't have a name for the emotion she felt. None the less she pressed onward. Once in the attic she was stunned by the condition.

In one corner there was a work desk with multiple blue prints, pieces of metal and unfinished projects strewn across the surface. Just to the right of that lay a mattress with blankets and sheets still clinging to the side. What looked to be a dog bed rested at the foot of the mattress and there is where Erik sat. In his hands he held his Persian monkey music box and it played its tune forlornly. Christine thought she spied a single tear as it slid down his visible cheek. It suddenly hit her that this wasn't just any ordinary house; this was where he grew up.

"Erik," She said softly. Her voice was full of pity and longing to comfort him. His head snapped in her direction, at first his eyes were cold and unreachable. Gradually they softened and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're awake." He said rising to his feet. He left the music box by the bed and strode over. He grabbed hold of her arms and planted a quick kiss on her lips. His boldness was unlike him and the lie was obvious in the kiss. His lips had trembled against hers, he was upset about something.

"I hope you don't mind," She said stepping away and gesturing towards her borrowed dress. "I needed a change of clothes and just assumed that the wardrobe was meant for me."

"Of course," He smiled weakly. "You don't need my permission."

Erik fingered the dress' sleeve and his eyes became foggy. Christine wasn't sure what he was thinking about but didn't want to pester him either. Her hand cupped his cheek and she forced him to look at her face. Her smile spoke volumes, when he was ready she would listen. He smiled back, though the pain never evaporated.

"Have you eaten?" He asked withdrawing from her and leading her out of the attic.

"No," She said meekly. Christine chuckled at the look he gave her. Clearly he disapproved. "I'm fine," She insisted. "If I was to get sick it would have already happened."

He nodded tersely but led her to the table. Together they sat. Christine filled her plate with the different fruits that had been offered and wondered silently how he had come by such rare delicacies during the winter months. Erik had always been cunning so she decided that was all that she needed to know.

Christine watched as Erik thoughtfully reached for a grape and popped it into his mouth. She smiled in wonderment as she realized she had never seen him eat before. He caught her glance and chuckled at her expression. It was a nice sound and it tickled against her ear drums pleasantly. He seemed at peace here, despite the earlier show of sorrow.

She sat back in her chair as her meal came to an end. It was quiet, neither one saying a word. It was obvious they just wanted to marvel at what they had accomplished. After fighting against Erik's influence it was surreal to be at his table in the home where he grew up. She felt giddy, like a school girl again.

"So," She asked in a temptingly sweet voice. He looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes. "When are you going to make me your wife?"

He smiled broadly. It was the biggest smile she had ever seen grace his face. Christine wanted to see it for the rest of her life; she wanted to make him happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-

It felt so right to be holding his hand. Like nothing else mattered. Christine felt fulfilled in every sense of the word. Here she was standing before the preacher as he made them swear their love for each other. Nothing had given her more joy than to proclaim her faithfulness to him and see the shy smile that spread across his masked face. She was excited for the things to come and the trust that would form between them. She longed for the day when he would feel comfortable enough to walk around their house without a mask to hide him. But she wouldn't push that upon him; only pray that he would understand she wouldn't judge him.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest said in a slightly confused voice. Both Erik and Christine chose to ignore his indignant attitude; he wasn't being paid to understand. "You may kiss your bride."

Their first kiss as man and wife was everything she had anticipated. She felt Erik's courage grow as he took control of her mouth. Her breath caught as the delight coursed through her body. She draped her arm around his neck and stood on her toes to reach him better. Unfortunately the mask made it a hard task; it always seemed to be in the way. Annoyed Christine reached to remove it, only to feel his hand tightly grasp her wrist preventing her from completing the deed. She whimpered as their kiss came to an end.

Naturally the Priest thought Erik had hurt her and remained skeptical. Christine wasn't sure how to explain the situation to him but one glance at Erik it became obvious he wasn't planning on explaining anything. Let the man wonder.

"Here is what you are owed," Erik said dropping coins into the man's open palm. "And a little extra to ensure you keep this a secret."

Christine was stunned that Erik was bribing another but she saw the wisdom in such an action. Boscherville was a small village where news would travel quickly. Erik escorted the man to the cottage door leaving Christine in the parlor. She ambled over to the piano bench and sat down, draping her rose pink dress over it elegantly. She fingered the ivory keys in wonderment. She had always longed to play the piano, though she had never learned. Her own father, being a violinist had always urged her to strive for greater things. Developing her voice had been their ambition.

She jumped as Erik came and placed his hands atop her. She felt his chest as his pressed against her back as he carefully guided her fingers. She smiled as she began to play a beautiful tune. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. He pressed himself even tighter against her and she became aware of his head craning over her left shoulder. As Christine continued to play, with the help of Erik, she turned to look at his face.

He didn't notice her watching him. He was so enthralled with playing; it was an expression she was familiar with. He often zoned out when playing his music. He was a brilliant composure and she was honored to have him leading her into such a beautiful song. She pulled her hand from under his and used it to angle his face towards hers. Reluctantly he complied only to be met by her lips. The playing stopped as he sat next to her.

She could feel his hands as they traveled up and down her back struggling to find a resting place. This time he didn't stop her as she peeled of his mask and let it fall to the floor. She grabbed his collar and loosened it desperately trying to touch skin. He groaned deep in his throat and broke away from her. She studied his face trying to understand. His hands trailed from her shoulder to her wrists where he gently removed her hold on his collar.

"What's wrong?" She asked as he leaned over to retrieve the fallen mask. Her stomach fell as he moved away.

"Christine," He sighed. He readjusted his wig. His hands fell back to his side and she noted the nervous twitching. "I-I can't."

She wasn't sure why his boldness suddenly died. All she knew was that here he stood, completely vulnerable. Whatever lay in his past left scars beyond her deepest imaginings. Was it that he thought she would find him ugly? It seemed foolish if that was the case. Christine longed for him, more than he could probably imagine. She desperately wanted to question him but refrained from doing so, knowing it would only hurt him more.

"Erik," She said softly. She rested her arm on his bicep and bade him to look into her eyes. He did reluctantly and she heaved a sigh of relief. "I love you."

He kissed her, this time he was able to control himself even though she urgently battled against him. She could sense his surprise even before she saw it on his face. It was clear what she wanted and even more so what he didn't want. He guided her to the sofa and sat her down. He joined her and caressed her knee.

"I can't expect you to understand," He said slowly. Christine sat patiently waiting as he gathered his thoughts. "Earlier, when I thought about what I was doing I remembered my childhood. How I was hated because I was…different." His voice turned desperate and pleading, "I can't do that to a child. What kind of father would I be to put another through the same Hell I've only just returned from?"

Christine looked down. Never had she thought that his deformity could be passed down. She just assumed that everything would be fine. She scowled at her naivety. Hot angry tears formed in her eyes as she realized what he was asking. He didn't plan to consummate their marriage. It was horrifying and not at all what she had expected. Christine stood up and smoothed her skirt. She didn't want him to see her cry over such a matter; it would only prove her selfishness.

"I'm going out for a walk." She announced holding her chin high. "I need some time to sort this information out."

"Christine," his voice begged. She waved, not yet ready to further discuss it. With that she snatched up her shawl and stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the short chapter!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**I had a lot of this story already written, it's just a matter of uploading it onto here. In this chapter you get to learn a little bit more about Erik. What is explained is credited to the book Phantom by Susan Kay. Reviews are appreciated. **

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><p>Chapter 5-<p>

Night fell and Christine felt she had a better understanding of Erik's unwillingness. He remained in the attic for the remainder of their day, not even coming down for dinner. Christine had pity on him and left a bowl of hot soup by the attic door, hoping he would forgive her earlier childishness. In time she would grow to understand. Though she did remain bitter every time she thought about what he was withholding.

Once she had remained downstairs for as long as she could manage she headed back into her room. She heated the bath, wanting a moment to relax. She washed her hair in scented lavender oils and rubbed the concoction all over her skin hoping, on the off chance that Erik did slip in her room, he would be tempted.

Unfortunately he arrived sooner than she had anticipated. She had just stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her naked body when the door opened. Erik stormed in looking disheveled, his whole body twitched. Christine let out a frightened yelp, clutching the towel tighter around her. He rubbed his temples and reluctantly looked in her direction.

There she stood, dripping wet with only thin towel covering her body. Her arms, shoulders and legs were exposed. Her eyes widened and she took a step back desperately looking for something to hide herself with. She chastised herself, wasn't this what she wanted?

Deep down inside she felt as though she were forcing Erik to do something he didn't want to do. He wouldn't forgive her if she did something like that and a child was conceived. She flashed an apologetic look when she noted the pained expression on his face.

"Erik—I—," She stopped and looked down. There was a stream of water where she had previously stood. When she looked back up Erik was slowly making his way over to her. His face was still unsure but her voice managed to hitch in her throat none the less. He continued to surprise Christine by slowly taking his mask off and allowing it to fall to the ground. Was this surrender?

Erik grabbed hold of the back of her neck and pressed her against wall. His eyes searched her face and her hand cupped his deformed cheek. Her breathing quickened and she felt as though she should say something, though she wasn't sure what. In any case he didn't allow any chance for her to speak up. His lips were on her in silent desperation. This time he didn't fight her as she removed his shirt, though he made no attempt to send the towel to the floor. Just as she had suspected Erik's face was the only thing affected. Everything else was shockingly beautiful.

His chest was muscular and his shoulders broad. Somehow his wig managed to stay on, not with much help from either of them. Christine remained locked against the wall, unable to move. Erik seemed to orchestrate her every movement. He guided her arm around his neck, gave her room to take a step here but never enough to allow her escape. In any other circumstance she would have been frightened by his assertiveness. He cradled her back and effortlessly scooped her into his arms. Their kiss was momentarily interrupted as he took her to the bed. He laid her down just as he would have in any other circumstance only this time he didn't leave.

"Erik," She said stopping him for a moment. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," He said with a smile. She laughed and pulled him towards her. She wanted to belong to him and she would.

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><p>It was morning far before she wanted it to be. She kept a tight hold on his hand, ensuring he didn't abandon her. Every move he made threw her into a panic and he was forced to sooth her. Often times his voice was the only thing that lulled her back into sleep, or his lips upon hers. All previous shyness disappeared.<p>

As the dull light filled their room she turned to face him. There he was, sleeping. His arm lay limply across her midsection and it tightened periodically. His breathing came in melodic puffs, his chest rising and falling with every exhale. It was odd seeing him like this. O.G never slept in her mind, nor did the phantom. Both were of the same entity, both were Erik. Only Erik was a man, a man with skills that far surpassed any mere mortals understanding. It was almost like God had pity on him and allowed Erik, someone whose face was so distorted, to possess talents some only dreamed about. Even Christine, a talented soprano, found herself awed by his perfect voice.

Erik's breathe unexpectedly quickened. He tossed his head back and forth and kicked with his legs. He was having a bad dream. Soft mutterings fell from his lips and she strained to hear what he was saying, strained to have a peek into his dream. The words were unintelligible and she was greatly irritated by the fact. Suddenly he sat up, eyes wide and haunting. He turned towards her and grasped her biceps tightly. There was a growl as he shook her.

"Where is it?" He asked, his voice was loud and demanding. She found herself shrinking away from him. "Where is my mask?"

"Erik—I," She gasped as he flattened her and situated himself atop her. He used his legs to pin her arms down and clenched her jaw tightly. She cried out. "Erik, please!"

His grip never loosened and his gaze never faltered from her face. Her arms screamed under the force and her back craned against him. She was so weak, so frail. Her cries became louder and more pleading as she searched for something, anything that would stave off his attack. Her eyes found the mask buried beneath his white shirt, it was still in the place he had so carelessly discarded it. Christine's legs began to kick, trying to do anything to get him off.

"Erik," She whispered, her voice tired and straining. Sudden realization sparked in his blue eyes. He blinked several time and his grasp loosened. She gasped for breath and leaned over the side of the bed escaping his haunting gaze.

"What – what happened?" He asked fully removing himself from her. She sat up and cradled her knees, resting her chin atop them. He reached for her but she flinched away. Pain erupted in his eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

Her cries were evidence enough. She was frightened, that was something she hadn't expected. He shushed her and slowly reached for her. Just inches from her skin he froze, absolute horror written upon his features. Now it was his turn to cry. He rocked back onto his knees and buried his head in his hands. His shoulders shook as his muted cries erupted from behind the cage his hands created.

Christine sucked in a deep breath. Whatever had happened wasn't purposefully planned. She could see that it hurt him, more than words could possibly describe. She ceased her crying and tentatively leaned forward to retrieve his mask. When she had it in her hands she positioned herself at his side and placed it in his lap. Now it was her turn to cradle. She buried her face in his neck and breathed across his bare skin. His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer. She repositioned herself so that he could rest his weary head upon her shoulder. In a slow, tired voice she began to sing.

"_Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness,"_ Her voiced failed her, something she wasn't used to. She coughed to clear her throat and continued on. "_You will never have to be alone_."

"I don't deserve you." He said in a hushed voice. He sat back and cupped her face in his hands. Tears ran on both sides of his face. He seemed like a child and Christine yearned to see his strength return. She shook her head and raised her hand to cup his.

"Don't say that," She begged. She held up her hand and showed him her ring. He grasped her knuckles and laid them across his deformed cheek. She smiled softly at him as he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. "We have each other now. Nothing will change that."

His eyes shot open and he dropped her hand. He stood up and left the bed, quickly slipping on his pants. He turned to face her, his chest gleaming with sunlight. Her heart beat faster as she marveled at his beauty.

"I have nightmares," He said turning his back on her. Erik leaned down and picked up his fallen wig. He fingered the perfectly placed hairs before angrily dropping it onto his bald head. He spun around to face his wife, his Christine. "When I lived with the gypsies they were very cruel to me. I had run away from this house, from my mother, hoping to find some form of acceptance. In my childish mind I thought the gypsies would understand my differences. Instead they caged me like an animal."

As he paused Christine's head reeled. The information seemed too great and she felt undeserving. Words gathered on her tongue, though she could not speak. Her brown eyes shone with pity and anger.

"At every fair they would remove the sac I had created to hide my face," He reached up to touch his deformity. His breathing shook as did his hands. "They called me the Devil's Child. Javert, the man who was charged with showing me to the public, would beat me mercilessly with a rod. My skin was black and blue all over. Eventually I learned to use my talents against him, making him believe that I was indeed a Devil's child. I gained their respect, and fear, and they let me out of the cage. The night before I was to leave I-,"

He faltered and his body shook with rage. Christine unintentionally sat back, afraid of where he might point that anger. He noticed but didn't point it out or seem upset by her reaction. He covered his mouth and his breath fell in ragged intervals. Eventually he turned, vigor restored.

"Javert tried to rape me," He said with no hesitation. Christine gasped in horror at such a thought. Now it was her turn to cover her mouth. He inched closer until he was on the bed crawling towards her like a tiger stalked its prey. "Do you know what I did Christine?" She shook her head in muted shock. "I killed him. Javert fell to the ground, my bloody knife stuck in his side."

Now he was judging her reaction. She had no fear of Erik, however. The love he had for her far surpassed that of any hatred he could point towards the man once called Javert. Erik's face softened as he realized once again how sheltered Christine had been. Madam Giry had gone through a great deal of trouble to keep her away from peeping toms, kept her guarded just for him.

Christine dropped her head and cried. She was absolutely disgusted that people would be so cruel, so hateful towards a person just because they were different. Was she the only one who had a heart? Erik's previously frantic behavior was understandable. The mask seemed to be the only thing protecting him, the only reason why people refrained from mocking him. It almost seemed a hopeless situation. He would be forever locked inside this house with only her for company. Although, she knew, to him that was also the greatest treasure.

"Erik," She said finally managing to look into his eyes. On his face, which was so marred, so tainted with hatred, his eyes remained untouched. They were always a perfect blue, one thing she could count on.

She leaned towards him and grabbed his neck and forced his lips to hers. He complied, making the task easier. Slowly she fell onto her back, needing him with every fiber of her being. She felt the tears upon his cheeks and she carefully brushed them away. This was the only way she could think to prove her love to him. Words were empty but actions, they were deep, meaningful and not something anyone could take away.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6-

Their days followed in sweet succession. Each morning they would wake together, often times just staring into each other's eyes. Erik continued to teach her to play the piano and coach her in her singing skills, though she didn't know when she would have the chance to use what he taught her. But she listened none the less.

Some days she would find him huddled in the attic, alone and staring at the empty bed. She wished time and time again that he would open up and talk about the dog that once occupied it. Christine had never been a fan of dogs, but it meant a lot to Erik.

When winter finally released its unrelenting grasp Christine begged Erik to allow her to walk to the village. Reluctantly he agreed, albeit refusing to join her. Each time she left the house, with a pocket full of coins, she would return with a new treasure. Slowly she molded the house to her liking.

The third week of spring she left, determination written across her face. Erik just laughed as she strode away, all previous worry gone. She needed to find something, something to further brighten their home. The days were still chilly and she shivered marveling in the occasional warm breeze to flutter against her skin. Planting season had begun and many farmers were in town looking to sell or trade their seeds. Christine purchased a few, though that wasn't what she came to find.

"Yoo-hoo!" Came a voice from above. Christine craned her neck to Mrs. Smith, a kind woman who ran an inn. "I think the Burgs have what you are looking for, Christine."

She smiled her thanks and shuffled away, eager to see if this rumor was true. Just as she was told there it was. An assortment of them! Christine's head reeled as she struggled to decide which one she would pick. Tentatively she knocked on the Burgs' door. The woman, heavily pregnant and cradling a young child on her hip considered Christine with harsh eyes.

Christine motioned towards the items, "I came to buy one."

Mrs. Burgs eyed her outstretched coins with obvious greed. Christine assumed she was paying far more than what was needed but she knew Erik wouldn't mind. The woman nodded with pursed lips and snatched the silver coins away.

"Go on ahead, take your pick." She allowed. Christine smiled and kneeled down.

The choice was difficult. There were so many and each seemed equally perfect. Finally she decided upon the smallest of all the others, figuring it might be nice to settle for the more different of the bunch. Gently Christine scooped up her prize and wrapped it in her shawl. With a triumphant smile she strode towards home.

* * *

><p>Erik was working in the yard when she returned. His mask was smudged and his shirt full of sweet. She laughed with glee, eager to show him what she acquired. He heard her and stood to greet her. Warily he eyed her lumpy shawl, but asked no questions.<p>

"How was your trip?" He asked planting a quick kiss upon her nose.

"Productive," She smiled even wider. She was enjoying withholding so she decided to ask about the cleared patch of earth. "What's this?"

"You mentioned before that you would like to garden," He explained turning to face his work. He looked proud of his accomplishment though Christine thought it was silly to see him so enthralled with it. "I took the liberty of clearing a patch for you. You may start whenever you wish."

"Oh, Erik," She gasped truly moved by his effort to please her. Finally she knew it was time. "I bought you something while I was in town."

"Oh dear," He smiled playfully. She scowled at him and removed the bundle from under her cloak. His face instantly brightened as he considered the lengths she must have went to find it. "A puppy, you bought me a puppy?"

She blushed a nodded. "You are always up in that attic staring at the dog bed. I figured it was time another dog found a home here."

Erik looked truly moved by the gesture. As gently as he could he lifted the small creature from Christine's arms. He cradled the puppy, which was a girl, and stroked her soft brown ears. Even Christine had to admit the little ball of fur was cute. Splotches of white interrupted the small puppy's dark brown coat. His tail was tipped in white, as though she had foolishly stuck it in an ink bell.

Christine watched as Erik quietly played with the puppy, allowing her to gnaw on his fingers. "Molly," He said slowly. Christine looked at him questioningly. He met her eyes ready to answer her unspoken curiosity. "Her name will be Molly."

"I like it." Christine agreed. Erik walked over and pressed a kiss upon her lips. Christine moved away and gave him a stern glance. "_Molly_ better not ruin my house. She is your dog and your responsibility; I don't want her becoming a terror."

"Yes mother," He teased before kissing her again. Molly yapped in protest and Christine couldn't help but laugh, Erik joined in. She felt fully satisfied, she was keeping her promise. Erik would be happy with her.

Molly soon outgrew the tiny dog bed Erik kept in the attic. Even though Christine picked the smallest puppy it would seem that Molly had every intention of growing to be a big strong dog. Erik grew happier as the days continued. He and Christine settled into an easy routine.

They would wake up together, maybe indulge in a few moments of pleasure before leaving their bed, they would dress themselves and go down to breakfast. Erik would play at the piano while Christine prepared a simple, yet tasty, breakfast. Slowly they would eat, hardly speaking but simply enjoying the other's company. Molly would get what little scraps Erik and Christine could spare. The knee high dog loved to eat anything she could get in her mouth. Later the couple would go out for an easy stroll speaking about their future plans, always dodging around the subject of possible children. That idea still clearly frightened Erik. On this particular day Erik decided to go out by himself. Christine was asked to come along but she refused, feeling quite odd. The moment he left was the moment she vomited.

There was a thick sense of horror as she sat there staring at the mess she had created. She had been feeling fine until that moment. Even then it wasn't the usual stomach pain, more like a thick nausea. The room spun around her and she stumbled backwards falling and hitting her head. What was wrong?

"Christine?" A worried voice shouted from the front door. Christine's eyes were blurred and she was unable to see who and interrupted. Naturally she chose to assume it was Erik.

"Erik," She whispered. "I don't feel well."

A strong arm caught her before she collapsed onto the ground. She became faintly aware of what was happening as she was lifted and placed on the sofa. The man, hopefully Erik, placed his hand on her forehead and scowled.

Erik, the real Erik, walked in at that moment. He stared in shock disbelief as he considered the vomit on the ground and the blood on the end table. Christine was lying on the sofa looking pale and clammy. Molly surged forward teeth bared and growling. The man who had intruded upon their home turned to face Erik.

"Hello again," he said with a cruel smirk. He looked behind him at Christine; worry now the only expression upon his face. "What have you done to her?"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry again for the short chapter! I will try to make the next one longer. :)<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**I love this chapter. It went in a totally different way than I intended. Sorry for the Raoul fans out there...there is some slight bashing done by Erik. Still don't know if he is gone for good. Reviews are appreciated!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7-<p>

"Oh, don't act so surprised." Raoul scoffed ambling towards Erik. "You had to know I would return. I told you, didn't I? I am a powerful man, my spies linger everywhere."

"I want you to leave," Erik said his anger boiling sending him ever closer to his breaking point. Images of his past victims flashed through Erik's mind and the temptation was more than he could bare. One glance at Christine, however, held him at bay. "You have no right to intrude upon my home."

"I do when I notice a distressed woman," Raoul's eyes were accusatory and Erik fought the urge to slap the look off of his face. "Now, would you mind calling off the mutt?"

Erik bristled but called for Molly to return to his side. The dog complied with no problem, though she remained on edge. Erik felt a surge of pride in the dog that Molly had become. There was no doubt in his mind that she would defend Christine if the situation demanded it.

Christine groaned from her spot on the sofa and Erik rushed to her side. He grabbed her hand in his and felt their clammy nature. Something wasn't right. She had been fine earlier, before he left. This illness came on suddenly, though she didn't seem to have any other symptoms.

"Shouldn't you call the doctor?" Raoul asked from his spot directly behind Erik. It seemed both men were torn between their hatred of each other and their love for Christine.

"No," Erik said shaking his head. The doctor would refuse to treat Christine if he saw that Erik had returned.

"Then you are just going to let her suffer?" Raoul was greatly angered by this. Erik rose from Christine's side, his eyes aflame.

"You are a stupid boy," Erik accused. "Do you assume I am always cruel? I love Christine and would call a doctor if I could, but I can't. He wouldn't treat her."

Erik couldn't bring himself to admit the reason why out loud. Raoul knew why. Erik reached up to adjust his mask feeling instantly comforted by the soft touch of the ivory. He was glad he had decided to replace his mask before entering his house, even though he knew Christine didn't care. He wanted to give her time to get used to him not wearing it before he abandoned it altogether.

"Allow me to pose as her husband," Raoul suggested with a hint of selfish desire. Erik loathed the idea instantly and glared his reply. Raoul help up his hands in a show of surrender, though it did little to stave off Erik's hatred. "It is a small price to pay to have a doctor examine her, is it not?"

"I am no fool." Erik said in a surprisingly calm voice. "Christine is my wife; she is married to me in every way now. No game of make believe will return her to you. Your visit is pointless, she is mine."

There was a look of disgust that crossed Raoul's face. Erik graciously chose to ignore it. He returned his attention back to Christine, grasping her waist tenderly and helping her to sit upright. Her eyes were slightly glazed over and her hands shook. He kissed the top of her sweaty forehead and brushed away her wet bangs.

"Erik," She said in a feeble voice. "I love you."

Those three words held more meaning to him than any other form of protest she could have presented him with. Christine did love him, she proved that every day he woke and she remained in his arms. Every touch, every smile nearly caused his heart to burst. He really didn't deserve her and yet here she stayed. He kissed her cheek and laid her down gently. Reluctantly he turned to Raoul.

"Fine," Erik surrendered. Raoul's victorious smile nearly caused him to reconsider.

* * *

><p>The doctor arrived, looking calm and collected. Christine sat on the sofa, slightly recovered from her earlier episode. Erik remained hidden in the shadows, using his gift of illusion to listen into what the doctor was saying. Immediately the doctor began to question Raoul, who had the answers due to the information Erik had supplied. Christine had only sat by and laughed as her husband feverishly tried to feed answers to her former fiancée. No doubt this was an awkward experience for her.<p>

"So, Mrs. De Changy," The doctor said kneeling by her side. Erik winced at the false last name but chose to ignore it. It was only for her protection. "What are your symptoms?"

"Well," She mused. She was so adorable when she was concentrating. Erik smiled from his position at her side. "I was fine this morning. I went on a walk with E-Raoul and it wasn't until we got back that I began to feel odd. A short while later I vomited."

"Hm," The doctor said rummaging through his bag. "You two are newlyweds right?" They both nodded and Erik couldn't help but notice the satisfied smirk on Raoul's face. "When was your last cycle Mrs. De Changy?"

Erik didn't like what this doctor was suggesting. He counted alongside Christine and swallowed a large lump that had gathered.

"A month and three weeks ago," She said with wide eyes. He nodded his head in defeat. "I'm late."

"As it would seem." The doctor nodded. "Could pregnancy be a possibility?"

Of course, Erik thought bitterly. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the doctor perform multiple tests on her. All in all he announced her perfectly healthy. Raoul remained perfectly silent, much to Erik's surprise. Christine was a good patient and answered all his questions, no matter how embarrassing they were to admit in front of Raoul.

"It seems to me Mrs. De Changy," The doctor smiled, great joy written on his face. "That you and your husband are expecting a child."

Erik closed his eyes against the revolt of emotion that plagued him mercilessly. First there was a joy beyond expression that hit him like an unexpected wall. There would be a baby, a beautiful creature that Christine would cradle in her arms, which he would father with a tender loving hand. The baby would be their perfect creation, evidence of their love for each other.

Now images of his deformed face fled into his mind. Memories of his mother's cruelty reminded him of what could happen. His desire to keep his children beautiful faded as the reality crashed down upon him. There was no doubt that his baby would inherit some of his ugliness. _Angle in hell. _His covered his face and cried.

As soon as the doctor left he reappeared at Christine's side, scaring the wits out of Raoul. Immediately Erik grasped her hand in his and brushed her hair out of her face. She smiled weakly, a certain terror in her eyes.

"That must have been hard for you to watch," She whispered glancing towards Raoul. She touched his face, the right side, noticing his tears. "Are you crying?"

What could he say to her? That he was angry that they were having a baby? It would only break her heart. He couldn't do that to her. She needed his support, and he would give it.

"I love you," He said gently, unable to voice what he was really feeling. She bowed her head as tears fell, she was relieved. He sat on the couch next to her cradled her eying Raoul triumphantly. There were so many words he wished to say to him, to force him away. He found himself unable to voice his opinion in the presence of the woman who loved them both, no matter how unequally. "You should rest," He told her. "Shall I take you to our bedroom?"

"I don't want to be rude," She said looking up at Erik's face, then back at Raoul's. She was obviously torn between the shock of the news and being a good hostess.

"I will take care of him," He said. He didn't try to hide the mischievous smirk that planted itself upon his lips. Christine shot him a warning glance and he was reminded of his previous magical lasso trick Raoul had been volunteered for. "I promise I won't harm him."

She still didn't believe him, but complied none the less. With one effortless motion Erik scooped his beloved wife into his arms. Before leaving the room he sent Raoul a demeaning look, full of taunting and self satisfaction.

When Christine was settled in bed and Erik was certain he was comfortable he left to tend to the unwanted intruder. Back in the parlor Raoul sat on the seat, Christine's mess cleaned, and eating a platter of vegetables. Erik seethed with anger and his hands shook. Using up all his self control he sauntered in and sat in the arm chair situated across from Raoul.

For a while they said nothing, just stared at each other barely moving. Neither of them had been forced into a position such as this, Christine had always been present. With an elegant flourish Erik gestured to his house.

"Can I get the Viscount anything?" Erik asked feigning casualty."I must apologize for my lack hospitality, but as you can clearly see I wasn't expecting any intrusions."

"No need to trouble yourself Monsieur Phantom," Raoul sneered. Erik was taken slightly aback after being called by the nickname he dubbed upon himself. "You never excelled in the area of hospitality. Need I remember my last visit?"

Erik smiled at the hint of the memory. Of course he remembered. He had a noose around Raoul's neck before the poor lad knew what hit him. It was a shame, really, that he lacked the mental strength to see such an obvious attack coming.

"Believe me," Raoul said abruptly standing, "I had no intention of seeing you, Erik."

The former Phantom stiffened. Until this moment he had no idea that Raoul possessed the knowledge of his name. It was quite shocking to hear it muttered. Carefully Erik composed himself and stood. As casually as he could he strode over to the draped window and peered outside.

"What was your purpose then?" He asked a slight tense leer to his vocals. "Did you plan to seduce a pregnant married woman?" Erik turned around, a smile thickly upon his lips, "I must admit my disappointment. It seems your tactics have suffered since we last met. But, now that I think about it, planning ahead had never been your strongest suit."

He strode over and leaned forward to examine Raoul's healed neck. "I'm glad to see you've healed quite nicely." He smacked Raoul's cheek playfully and returned to his seat, plopping down.

"As usual I find myself astounded at the lengths to which you will go to insult me." Raoul's laugh was tight giving further evidence to his discomfort. Erik couldn't have been more pleased with himself.

"You don't make it very hard." Erik continued shamelessly. "In fact the game has almost lost all enjoyment for me."

"Come now, Erik," Raoul said in a demeaning tone. "We mustn't use others to make ourselves feel better. Such things are above us."

"Once again you are wrong!" Erik's exclamation was paired with him involuntarily leaning forward. His eyes were blazing and his voice rose to the rafters. Molly perked up, fully aware of her master's movements and ready to pounce if the situation required it. "Do you think I would use you, of all people, to boost my self confidence? When have I ever cared for such things?"

Raoul tried to respond but was interrupted by Erik's challenging gaze.

"Is it really so hard to believe that she could love me?" Erik sounded as though he were desperately trying to convince Raoul of this fact, though his eyes never wavered. "Or are you too conceited to face the truth that is already standing right before you?"

"You know nothing of _truth_," Raoul argued. "You have done nothing but manipulate Christine since the day her and I were reunited."

"Reunited, Mr. De Changy that is what we must focus on." Erik returned to his customary cool expression. "Is it possible that you no longer know Christine?"

"I refuse to believe such lies!" Now Raoul was the one on his feet with a fierce expression on his face. "Do not mistake me to be as weak minded as Christine. Your words are coated with lies and fake promises. Do you think I will fall into the same traps that she has?"

Erik didn't desire to respond. He had insulted Christine in ways that Erik would never dare to. His heart broke to think she could have been married to this man. The floor boards creaked and worry rose up inside Erik. There was no doubt that she had heard their unnecessarily loud conversation. Before he could move to prevent it she was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyes teary.

"Christine," Erik said softly moving to her side. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown with a thin woolen shawl wrapped around her pale shoulders. She had been hurt, and Erik was angered because of it. He looked at Raoul, shooting daggers in his direction. "What have you done?"

"Erik, please." Christine begged her voice was feeble and full of emotions. She turned to Raoul. "Now I am reassured of my decision that night in Erik's liar. Now, if you would be so kind as to leave."

"Christine, please, I-."

"Leave my house!" Never had Erik, nor Raoul, heard her speak with such harsh intensity. Her brown eyes blazed with fire and she stood rigid.

Regretfully Raoul nodded his head and gathered his things. Erik didn't dare speak any more words, knowing Christine needed him to be silent. He felt her thin arms wrap around him and caressed her head as it lay on his chest. When the door closed her cries overtook her.

He guided her to the sofa and pulled her into his lap. Gently he rocked her while humming a gentle song in her ear. His voice usually calmed her when she grew upset and it worked now. Soon there was nothing but the soft sound of her exhausted whimpering.

"It's alright," He spoke, "I'm here."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8-

Raoul didn't come back. Christine wasn't sure whether to be pleased by this fact of bothered by it. She was slightly disappointed that she had let her anger get the better of her. Normally she was so light hearted and girly. Perhaps it had been the stress of the new found pregnancy that caused strain on her emotions?

She had worried feverishly over Erik's true emotion towards the discovery. He had seemed pleased enough, but the tears concealed any hint of a lie. He was always so gentle towards her, always fetching her tea. It was silly almost, but sweet.

"Erik," she said smiling. She was seated on the sofa wearing nothing but a night gown. "Will you sing for me?"

He shot her a surprised look. Christine hadn't heard him sing since back at the Opera Populair. Singing Don Juan with him had been indescribable. Nothing had been equal to it and his voice was like that of an angle.

"Christine," He started but quickly seated himself by the piano. He gave her a look and placed his fingers over the keys. "What if I played for you instead?"

There was no use in hiding her disappointment. Erik graciously ignored her and begun to play a soft tune. As usual he didn't play a piece by any well known composure. He preferred to make it up as he went along. His talent far surpassed Christine's ever growing expectations.

"I wonder," She said aloud. "Do you think our baby will inherit your talents?"

Abruptly the playing ended and he angled himself away from her. She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he slowly regained control of his emotions. When Erik finally met her eyes she was surprised to see the amount of hurt that remained there. Her breath was instantly stilled as she pondered upon what could have caused such a reaction.

"For the child's sake," He said in a low intimidating voice, "I would rather he didn't possess any talent at all."

Christine leaned forward and gently touched his arm. A soft smile grew across her lips. Though she didn't understand his wishes she knew there was a reason as to why he felt this way. As usual she chose not to pester him, fearing he might grow angry. Instead she focused on other, more pleasant things.

"How are you so certain our child is a _he_?" She asked with a slight cock of her eye brow. She watched as his eyes grew large with an unknown fear. "What if we were to have a daughter?"

Erik wasn't sure how to respond to such a suggestion. He turned back the piano and resumed playing, completely ignoring Christine's suggestion all together. She decided not to take offense to his behavior and rocked back and forth to the sweet tune of his music. Suddenly, before she could stop herself, words formed at the tips of her lips. Quietly, at first, she began to sing.

"_Never knew I could feel like this  
>Like I've never seen the sky before<br>Want to vanish inside your kiss  
>Every day I love you more and more<br>Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings?  
>Telling me to give you everything<br>Seasons may change, winter to spring  
>But I love you until the end of time<em>

_Come what may_  
><em>Come what may<em>  
><em>I will love you until my dying day"<em>

He eyed her from the side as she kept adding words upon words, allowing his music to seep into her soul. It seemed the only way to express her true emotions, and he understood the language of music in a very intimate way. Her voice continued to soar, reaching new heights.

"_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
>Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace<br>Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_  
><em>It all revolves around you<br>And there's no mountain too high  
>No river too wide<br>Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
>Storm clouds may gather,<em>_  
>And stars may collide<br>But I love you (I love you)  
>Until the end of time(until the end of time)<em>

_Come what may_  
><em>Come what may<em>  
><em>I will love you until my dying day"<em>

Christine stopped, gasping for air, the last note being slightly higher than she was used to. He stopped playing and used his muscular arm to steady her. His gentle hold was soothing and she instantly calmed. Unconsciously she clutched her lower abdomen, silently wishing to feel their baby. With tearful eyes she looked up at him, hoping to see the same joy mirrored in his face.

"We are going to have a baby." She said desperately trying to hold back her cries. He pulled her into his chest and she breathed in his warm scent.

It was the same as that night not too long ago, the night where he had forced her to choose. It was the hardest decision she had ever been faced with, yet her heart never once deceived her. She had chosen true, only to have the one she loved send her away. Faced with a life full of selfishness Christine returned, swearing her devotion. Now here they were experiencing the deepest joys of marriage, starting a family. Nothing could be sweeter.

* * *

><p>That night Christine was plagued by nightmares. She dreamt of a child with horns and the devil's face. It was unlike Erik's in every way. After minutes of tossing and turning she woke panting. She sat straight up, waking Erik in the process. He shot her a concerned look and smoothed her hair while gently hushing her.<p>

"What is it?" He asked sitting next to her and pulling her towards him. She moved so close to where she was nearly on his lap. He didn't seem to mind. The soft feel of his bare chest and the natural warmth of his skin, it reminded her that he was alive and real. She was no longer dreaming.

"Nothing," She said taking a few deep breaths. She looked in his eyes trying to find a way to reassure him. "I was just having a nightmare."

His arm's tightened their grip and they sat like that for the longest time. Questions tossed around in Christine's head, preventing her from sleep. Erik seemed quite content to remain in their intimate position, carefully guarding her. But there was something that needed answering; she could deny it no longer.

"Earlier today," She said softly, "Why did you say didn't want our child to be talented?"

There was a tense silence that stretched around us. Eventually Erik withdrew his support and left the comfort of their shared bed. He stretched and walked to the window, peeking beyond the drapes. Moonlight bathed his skin and she wondered what he was thinking.

"People choose to cage those who possess greater talent than the rest," He turned. "The world is cruel place. I, even to my horror, am evidence of this fact. Look at what I put you through."

A shock coursed through Christine's body as he brought up his past hypnotism methods to wrongfully gain her attention. He had done horrible things to send a loud, and often terrifying, message. She was his, and no other man was privy to her company. It had been a hard thing for her to deal with though, in the end, he proved capable of change. That was what drew her to stay.

"Erik, that is in the past." She said trying to bring him out of the hole he had dug for himself. "Let's not dwell there."

"I don't believe you understand the severity of what I went through," He said with hushed intensity. She was silenced immediately, eager to hear what he was going to share. "I already told you about the gypsies. Just like at the Opera Populair I acquired their respect through fear. That was the one tool that never failed me. Not love, not talent but fear."

Christine looked down at her folded hands. This was the first time that he had resorted back to his previous angry ways. He seemed unreachable in the place he now dwelled and she didn't dare try to enter into the realm with him. It would only lead to frustration and a lack of understanding.

"I don't want a weak child," Erik said, still he refused to turn. "If, and don't deny this possibility, he is born with some form of deformity I don't want him to be forced into the same form of Hell. Talent means nothing when no one can stand to look upon a disfigured face, even when it is masked. There is that curiosity, that demanding to see what I was hiding. I had no choice but surrender to their desire, time and time again."

His voice sounded strained under the stress of retelling his past. Christine knew it wasn't easy for him but commended him for his courage. Now Erik slowly returned to her side. His arms instantly encircled her waist, as though feeling her warmth would bring him comfort. She felt his fingers as they twitched against her bodice, a clear sign that he was troubled.

"I told you that when I lived with the gypsies they kept me caged for a while," She nodded in conformation and he continued. "When I finally did gain their fear they reluctantly allowed me to perform my music. Often I would sing in front of crowds, the same crowds who gathered to look upon my curse. As I played, performed illusions and sang they never failed to demand more of me when it came to an end. 'Take off the mask' they would demand. They would not stop until my face was there for all to see. They were revolted, and stared in awestruck wonderment that such a creature of hellish nature could have such an angelic voice.

"I swore never to perform again," He rested his head upon her shoulder and he fingered individual hair as he pondered something. "Singing on stage with you was – surreal. It was the first time in ages I had walked upon a stage, and there you were allowing me to touch you. For once I wasn't worried about being asked to remove my mask-."

There is was the betrayal. She had forced him into revealing his face. It was the only weakness she could think of and in her anger she had performed the most treacherous act possible. Now Christine's hands shook. That was one aspect of that night they had both failed to discuss, _her_ betrayal, not his.

"Hush," Erik said grabbing her hands in his. He laid her down and pulled the blankets to his chin. The placid smile upon his lips was all the reassurance that she needed. "That is why I do not sing, it is too painful."

As he lay beside her she couldn't help but feel a great sense of guilt. It was her fault that she never heard him singing, a well earned punishment.

* * *

><p><em>In my dreams I heard his voice. We were back under the Opera Populair. Candles produced the only light, revealing an elegantly decorated area. Paintings upon paintings covered nearly every surface. On one of the desks there was a mini version of the stage. Pure elegance was all that she could think. But even more so was the man that gracefully walked away. Quickly, yet with finesse, he sent his cape to the floor revealing his white shirt whose neckline revealed much of his muscular chest. There was one undeniable feature, however, that I couldn't seem to ignore. His face. Only one side was visible as he turned to face me. I could tell that he was handsome, his eyes shone with mystery drawing me ever deeper into his soul. <em>

"_I have brought you," He said, his voice like silk, "To the seat of sweet music's throne, to that place where all must pay homage to music, music. You have come here, for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing I have needed you with me, to serve me to sing for my music, music."_

_The words that he had spoken were so lyrical and meaningful; it was as if he was music itself, the epitome of song. And as he begun to sing all former sense flew from my grasp as I began entranced with what he sang, what he expressed._

"_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation__  
><em>_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination__  
><em>_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor__  
><em>_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender__  
><em>_Turn your face away from the garish light of day__  
><em>_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light__  
><em>_And listen to the music of the night_

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams__  
><em>_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before__  
><em>_Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar__  
><em>_And you'll live as you've never lived before_

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you__  
><em>_Hear it, feel it secretly posses you__  
><em>_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot find__  
><em>_The darkness of the music of the night_

_Let your mind start to journey through a strange new world__  
><em>_Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before__  
><em>_Let your soul take you where you long to be__  
><em>_Only then can you belong to me_

_Floating, folding, sweet intoxication__  
><em>_Touch me, trust me savor each sensation__  
><em>_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write__  
><em>_The power of the music of the night_

_You alone can make my song take flight__  
><em>_Help me make the music of the night"_

_A smile touched my lips as I imagined what could have been had I not been so foolish as to faint. The passion we might have shared in the innocence of my knowledge. Knowing what I knew now, it all seemed like it belonged. I had been the wrong one to abandon Erik's love for Raoul's for the short time that I had. Now, in my dreams and in reality, all had been made right. I belonged to Erik and the passion we shared was unquenchable._

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><p><em><em>**The first song was Come What May from Moulin Rouge. Of course I wrote it as though it were operatic in nature so...just use your imagination. ;). The spoken intro to Music of the Night was typed from memory so please excuse any errors you might find. As for the general chapter, reviews are always welcome. I love hearing your thoughts and tips. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I hope this doesn't seem to be slowing down for you guys. Just trying to keep it rolling towards the birth of the baby. I realized I couldn't just jump straight to that without adding some seriously necessary characters. I keep playing with Erik's point of view so I hope that doesn't get confusing either. It's hard for me to write him so forgive any character mess ups you might run into. Not all of it is in his perspective.**

**Enough with my ramblings! As always, reviews are welcome and necessary for the growth of this story. Thanks to all the readers that have put this on their Alert and/or Favorite list. It really is surprising how popular this story is! Humbling as well. Thanks again!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 9-<p>

It was really a frightening sight to wake up each morning and see how your stomach grew. Although it wasn't always as noticeable she found herself awed in strange moment. Christine desperately wished to distract herself from the impending subject of actually giving birth. Just thinking about that subject was enough to bring her chills.

Erik noticed the change too. Day by day she looked more like a mother. There was a slight glow upon her skin and a scowl that refused to disappear. Without her knowing he began to transform one of the smaller rooms in the house into a nursery. Christine didn't seem to have a real taste for exploring so he knew his secret would be safe until it was ready to be revealed. As he witnessed the growth of her abdomen his excitement responded. There would be a baby, whether he liked it or not. There was no use wishing he hadn't been so foolish as to consummate their marriage in the first place, but yet he couldn't bring himself to regret his lapse in reason. There was no greater satisfaction in knowing he had something Raoul didn't.

A couple of months into the pregnancy Erik began to recognize certain needs that were going untended. In the early light of the morning he left his side of the bed. There were things that needed to be done to ensure the overall health of the baby. Erik wasn't willing to sacrifice the well being of such a tiny life. Leaving nothing but a short note to reassure Christine, he left.

It was a short walk to town, but tiresome none the less. Constantly staying in the shadows wasn't always pleasant. He had to be ever aware of where the town's people stood, where their eyes wondered. It was quite remarkable to not how they suspected the presence of some unseen force, but never did anything to further investigate it. Again, fear created respect.

Erik knew of only a few midwives in town. He selected the one he deemed most suitable, and worthy, to tend to his Christine. He left nothing but a note, explaining very little and with a promise of a handsome salary.

Satisfied that he had sufficiently tended to the most pressing issues he slowly made his way through town. Absentmindedly he purchased a few items, always careful to wait until the vendor's back was turned. Being spotted would ruin everything he had worked to protect. Not only was his peace at stake, the well being of his beloved family was on the line. The cruelty of this village hadn't been forgotten.

With laden arms Erik had the right mind to leave and started heading in the proper direction. He was stopped by the hushed tones of two gossiping women folk. Ever careful he edged closer, curiosity overcoming his gentlemanly sensibilities.

"Something just feels odd," A woman he recognized as Bernadette said with a slight shiver. "There is a presence here I can't shake."

"Oh, don't be silly," said Bernadette's company. "You are still conspiring after the visit of that handsome Viscount."

"Admit it Andria," Said the first looking around wildly. "Why does a viscount waltz into town the size of Boscherville asking about some past deceased child?"

"Erik wasn't just any regular child," Andria snapped. "He was Devil spawn, undeniably..."

He had heard enough. Once again they proved the cruelty that people were capable of sinking to. Surprisingly composed Erik left the cold hearted village where he had never been welcomed and headed for home. Home, a place where he selfishly hid the one human being that didn't flinch at the sight of his unmasked face, he adored her with every fiber of his being. He would fight for her, no matter how gruesome the battle.

* * *

><p>Christine never asked why Erik had gone to town. Normally he kept to the woods never caring, or mentioning, a short stroll through the village. It was perplexing, and entertaining. The knock at the door came as a surprise and was answer enough to Erik's mischief.<p>

Casually he rose and smoothed his black jacket. He flashed a smile and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

"You best answer the door," He said gesturing towards the wooden door at the front of the house. "I'll be in the attic if you should need me."

"Erik," Christine groaned. "I hate this, I hate that you have to hide whenever we have a visitor. Can't you stay?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," he said with a sad smile. He kissed her cheek again and, before she can pose any further protest, he slid past her and disappeared up the stairs. Begrudgingly she answered the door. She was surprised to see Wilma Burns on her doorstep.

"Hello Christine," she smiled tensely. She passed a thin piece of paper, of Erik's stationary, into her hands. With a smile she read. He had summoned a mid-wife for her.

"So nice of you to come, Mrs. Burns," Christine greeted calling upon every ounce of hospitality she could muster.

"Hm," the older woman hummed. Without invitation she slid past Christine and walked into the parlor. She turned back to Christine, "You can call me Wilma."

"Please," Christine said motioning towards the sofa. "Sit, can I fetch you anything?"

"No," The woman shook her head, but took the invitation and sat down. "I don't plan to stay for long."

Christine nodded and joined Wilma in the parlor. Out of nowhere Molly appeared wagging her tail. She politely said hello and Wilma seemed slightly pleased to see one of her puppies looking so well. Normally Molly didn't leave Erik's side; he must have sent her down. Christine smiled, feeling his presence despite his promise to be in the attic.

"I found this note on my doorsteps," Wilma said, there a slight look of discomfort on her face. "If you needed a midwife why didn't you ask me in person? I would have gladly agreed."

"_Say that you aren't married," _Erik's voice whispered in her ear. She shivered with delight. It had been so long since he had communicated to her in such a ghostly way. This time, he wasn't demanding or harsh, he was concerned and trying to help ease the suspicion.

"I-I'm not married," Christine lied. She closed her eyes and called upon her previous acting ability. She continued on. "I was afraid of controversy."

She felt Erik's approval in the air around her, nearly taking her breath away. Luckily Wilma didn't notice this and continued to stare, her hard eyes not once giving away any emotion.

"I see," Was her simple response. Wilma smoothed her skirt and met Christine's eyes. "Luckily I don't care much for the ideals of others. I will help you, and keep this a secret."

"Why?" Christine asked, blurting out her question before she could stop herself. "I mean, thank you."

A slight smile played across Wilma's lips. Christine watched as all the woman's harshness and judgmental spirit melted away. It was as if this woman was someone completely different.

"There is enough talk floating around town about you, and this house." Wilma explained. Again she looked around, an unreadable expression on her face. "Years ago there was a widow that lived here. She gave birth to a child – No words can describe his face. So full of deformity, it could only mean that God was punishing her. She died here and the child disappeared, most of us prefer to believe he is dead. But, since you have arrived, there has been a presence in the air. A feeling that none of us have felt since Madeline was alive and that Child -."

Christine stood abruptly. She didn't look kindly upon this woman, midwife or no, coming into her house and whispering bad things about _her_ Erik. He had been through enough scrutiny to fill his lifetime.

"_Relax," _Erik soothed, once more whispering in her ear. _"Do not be concerned for me. I have managed thus far, have I not? They are just empty words to me now, meaningless and full of curiosity. Don't give her reason to believe her own lies."_

Christine pursed her lips and faked a smile. She was a singer, not an actress. Wilma didn't seem to notice her hostess' change in stature and irritation, a fact that made Christine slightly pleased. If Erik was right, and he most likely was, she would only feed the fire.

"It is all just silly superstition," Christine laughed, trying to remain lighthearted about the whole situation. "After all, the child is most likely dead by now."

It hurt her more than she would ever care to admit to talk so harshly about Erik. Normally she didn't fall to such depths as to insult the man she loved. Wilma's disposition changed again and she smiled at Christine.

"Having a baby is such a great joy," Wilma said, a sparkle in her hazel eyes. Her tone turned unnecessarily serious. "I just hope God doesn't seek to punish you for your adultery."

Christine was stunned into silence. The urge to smack Wilma was overwhelming but she managed to fight against her urges. Her face remained emotionless. Wilma returned to her happy demeanor and stood, quietly making for the door.

"I will come to check on you every weekend." She announced, almost as though she had done nothing offensive at all. "When the time draws closer I will come every day to ensure I am present when the little one decides to show herself. Is this alright with you?"

Christine wanted to never be forced into this woman's scrutinizing company again. Almost as though she could feel his calming hand upon her shoulder she nodded her chagrinned agreement. It would be a painful experience, but wasn't that to be expected?

The moment the door was closed, and they were once again privy to their world of privacy, Erik appeared by her side. She knew he had always been there, what she felt had been nothing but an illusion, but it never failed to shock her how he was so talented in his arts.

"Won't you tell me how you do that?" She asked playfully. He cocked his visible brow and a smile tugged at his lip. She knew that he wouldn't. Silently Christine settled herself upon his chest, content to surrender into his comforting embrace. "She is a horrid woman."

"Wilma is better than others," Erik reassured smoothing Christine's hair lovingly. He turned her to face him and planted a kiss upon her cheek. "She is a very good Mid-wife and knows what she is doing. I trust her, and so should you."

"So we will have to be parted, until she decides to leave, while the baby is being born?" She asked forlornly. "I cannot do this without you."

"I will never leave your side," He promised firmly grasping her elbows. "Even though you can't see me I will be there, watching over you."

"Erik," There was no way that Christine could fully express her distaste for this plan. She wanted to be able to look upon him for strength, hold his hand and feel his masculine grip. She wasn't sure how she would fare without his physical form beside her.

As Erik watched her she sensed his understanding, and his finality. He wouldn't change his mind, or force Wilma to accept his return. News would spread through the village and they would never have peace restored. That wasn't the live either of them desired. Christine loved her privacy far too much to sacrifice it so selfishly. And what would become of their child in a situation like this? The poor babe would be the cause of scorn and would never be accepted among the other children. At least being a bastard offered some understanding among the cold hearted people. Even so, this whole situation was aggravatingly frustrating.

Erik tilted her chin so that Christine was looking at his masked face. There were his eyes, the blue shimmering orbs that glistened with admiration and affection. He understood her emotions, though did nothing to show he would be willing to change his mind. This was how it had to be, that was his final word on the subject.

"I know this is hard for you," Erik offered. "But everything I do, no matter how unorthodox, is for the protection of my two greatest treasures. I am a selfish man, Christine. I will not feed you, and my unborn child, to the wolves."

She smiled faintly and stood on her tippy-toes to kiss him. He responded by tightening his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Christine lost herself in the moment and all her worry evaporated. He would be a great father, that was undoubtable.


	10. Chapter 10

**We have just entered into our double digits! How exciting! Once again, thanks for the support!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 10-<p>

Christine woke, gasping for breath. The dull light of the morning was breaking through the thin white curtains; day would soon be upon them. With a quick swipe she moved her long blond hair out of her eyes and tried to quiet her breathing. She didn't want to wake Erik.

As subtly as she could she turned into his chest, nestling herself against him. Her husband's arms tightened around her waist as he continued to sleep. Christine watched him, deeply moved to see him so vulnerable. His unmasked face seemed only a small feature. His eyelids moved as he dreamed and his breathing was smooth and rhythmic. Lately Erik's nightmares seemed to have died completely. Normally he would wake up panting, flashes of anger in his blue crystalline eyes. It was moments like those that Christine found herself frightened of him.

She gasped as a slight pressure in her womb took her breath away. The baby was moving. Christine's hands flew to the spot in interest. She waited patiently until finally the baby kicked again. It was a weird sensation to feel a life moving inside on another, an experience beyond explanation. Christine wanted to wake Erik so that he, too, could feel their child. But she couldn't bring herself to do it, to ruin his rest. So, she settled to closing her eyes and selfishly keeping this experience to herself.

Suddenly, almost without her realizing what was happening Erik's palm moved to caress where the baby was currently concentrating all its tiny force. Christine angled her head to gaze into his eyes. Again there was a kick. He gasped slightly and removed his hand, overwhelmed. Tentatively he replaced it and was greeted with another sturdy kick.

His soft laughter filled the quiet of their room. She couldn't help but join in his giddiness. She looked into his eyes to see them full of happy tears. Erik's laugh was unlike anything she had ever heard, much like his singing voice. Only now she found she truly yearned to hear him sing to her, like he had done so long ago.

"And you say we are having a girl," He teased with a quick kiss. "No girl can manage a hit this hard."

"I do believe you are insulting my gender," Christine chuckled. "You might find yourself surprised if you continue to do so."

Instantly Erik backed down from his argument. There they lay together. Erik's hand atop her enlarged belly and Christine's resting gently upon his. They stared into each other's eyes laughing and marveling at their child's strength. Eventually the unborn babe tired, as did Christine. Still wrapped in each other's embrace they fell back into a dreamless sleep. Neither one daring to forget the night they had spent feeling their creation.

* * *

><p>Christine woke, a deep longing rising up from the pit of her stomach. It felt like centuries since she had last been with her husband. There he lay, bare chested and handsome as ever. It was painful to know she couldn't have him, no matter how defiantly she wished it to be so.<p>

By this time the sun was already lighting up their room. Christine left the bed, making a grab for her robe. She wrapped it around her body and pulled her hair out from under the silky fabric. The rustling of fabric hinted that Erik too was up. Withdrawn Christine ran a brush through her hair. Erik said nothing, only planted a kiss upon her head and walked out of the room. She sighed but didn't try to stop him. He was in one of his moods.

* * *

><p>Christine was ready when Wilma's knock resounded throughout the house. It was time for their weekly appointment. Erik vanished up the stairs, as was custom. The air around Christine grew thick as she sensed his presence; it never failed to amaze her. His ability to pose illusions was breathtaking, and frightening.<p>

Wilma was her normal cheerful self, completely oblivious to the feelings of others. Christine graciously sat the woman in the parlor and put up with her examination. It was simple enough, a few questions partnered with some uncomfortable poking and prodding. The moment Wilma was finished Christine wished to send her away, but Erik's disapproval was thick. That and the woman seemed perfectly content to remain on the comfortable sofa for the foreseeable future. With a clenched jaw Christine offered a not so convincing smile.

"Would you like some tea, Madam?" Christine asked trying to maintain some form of hospitality.

"Tea would be wonderful," Wilma said much to her hidden dismay.

None the less Christine rose and quickly went to tend to the kettle. She was a little uncomfortable about leaving Wilma alone in the parlor. But it would have been impolite to ask the midwife to come along. Clumsily Christine maneuvered through her small kitchen, finding it difficult to reach certain objects with her hugely bloated womb. She was getting to the point where she just wished the babe to come already.

Christine reached for the copper kettle, glad that she had taken the extra effort to fetch some well water before Wilma's arrival. She filled the worn kettle and placed it on the warm stove top, throwing in some fresh logs to get it burning hot once more. With summer just around the corner the added heat wasn't a welcome prospect.

She spent an extra couple of moments fishing out her good china and some left over biscuits, glad that Molly hadn't taken them as she was known to do. Just as Christine was placing these things on the tray there came a great angry shout from above. A giant thud shook the house and Molly's insistent barking hinted that something was off. As quickly as she was capable Christine bolted into the parlor. Wilma was nowhere in sight. Christine's stomach sank as she made for the stairs, thinking the worst. Just as she had suspected she found Wilma cowering in a corner of the attic, Erik nowhere in sight.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked rushing to help the woman to her feet. She was met with a harsh slap to the wrist as Wilma rejected the assistance.

"You are cursed!" Wilma hissed. "You and your child both will have no happiness! That man, that daemon will bring nothing but evil upon your household."

"You evil woman," Christine hissed, she allowed her anger to overwhelm her better senses. "Are you so vain as to see only an ivory mask, not the man behind it?"

"So it is true?" Wilma gasped, utterly shocked. "He has returned."

"_As you will not," _Erik said from the shadows. His voice brought chills upon both women, except Christine's were of delight not fear. _"You have trespassed upon my hospitality and still, you dare to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Did you think I would be a forgiving ghost?" _

"Erik," Christine said chastisement deep in her vocals. "Stop this game at once. This is not the time to toy with emotions."

There was nothing but silence. Erik didn't reveal himself as Christine had hoped; still he lingered deep in the shadows of the attic. Wilma's eyes grew icy and unfeeling.

"You have said nothing but lies," she accused. "You are having this _thing's _baby and you expect me to aide in this ghastly event? You are a foolish girl to fall into his traps."

"_Was your salary not sufficient?" _Erik asked his voice surprisingly cool. _"That sum should be enough to ask for your confidence regarding this delicate matter."_

"When I accepted the money I didn't realize I would be bringing devil spawn into the world." Wilma hissed into the shadows.

The window panes shook and something fell off the work desk and crashed to the wooden floor. Christine scrunched up her nose at the foul odor that plagued her nostrils. What had he been doing up here?

"_DO YOU DARE INSULT ME?" _Erik's voice shook the rafters and boomed around the women, enveloping them both in the folds of his rage. _"YOU ARE LUCKY I DON'T PUNISH YOU FOR YOUR INSOLENCE. FEW HAVE BEEN AS LUCKY."_

"Erik, please!" Christine cried, she was through with his trickery. It was time he revealed himself as a man; prove he is no evil spirit. "Frightening her will get us nowhere."

No words were said. Even Wilma was silenced. Perhaps her curiosity to see the man behind the voice was enough to indulge her humanity. There was a rustle behind the curtains that blocked off one half of the attic to another. Soon a masculine shadow could be seen just behind it. Carefully Christine edged closer, ignoring Wilma's quick intake of breath.

Christine didn't wait to hear his protest, only moved the curtains aside and grabbed his hands pulling him from his hiding spot. Erik didn't resist but moved with slow elegance. When he was fully visible Wilma's eyes changed. The flash of ivory was nothing compared to the sight she was now forced to behold. His stance was firm and his eyes unwavering. Anger rolled off of him in nearly visible waves, the energy was tense. Once again Christine was forced to be the mediator.

"Wilma," She said turning to face the woman. Her eyes were gentle, though not at all kind. "I don't expect you to understand why I chose him for my husband. You have only proved what Erik has been trying to explain since the day I first agreed to this life of solitude. The outsiders will always mock and seek to hurt what they don't understand. I am asking so little, merely a bit of forbearance. Try to see who he really is, look beyond the mask and distortion."

Wilma still looked unsure but she tentatively met Erik's eyes. She flinched slightly as Erik continued to meet her gaze. They stood like that for a while, both not turning away locked in a battle of wits. Erik's hands began to twitch and Christine lovingly grabbed them trying to sooth his nerves. This was hard for him. Wilma was the only woman since Raoul to have seen him fully, and for this amount of time. Back on stage, during Don Juan, the whole audience got a glimpse of his Ivory skin. But it was only for a few short minutes and then, it all came crashing down.

"Fine," Wilma said finally turning away. There was an undeniable disgust in her tone, but Christine chose to ignore it. "I will try. But if he does anything I don't approve of, I will leave."

"Don't worry, Madame," Erik seethed his voice like ice. "I will try my hardest to avoid you."

With that he slinked back in the shadows, disappearing from sight once again. Christine took the advantage and gingerly led Wilma out of the attic and back into the parlor. The midwife refused to sit and cast occasion glances to the ceiling above.

"Wilma," Christine started, unsure how to continue. "You will, um, keep this a secret, won't you?"

"I told you once I didn't care for the sensibilities of others," Wilma said, her voice somewhat saddened. She looked down at her withered hands, clearly ashamed. "Today you proved to me that was a lie. For your sake I will strive to silence the rumors floating around town. But as I said before, should he do anything I don't approve of – I will withdraw my support."

Now it was Christine's turn to bow her head. She got the feeling that Wilma wasn't just a midwife, but a powerful influence to the fellow town's people.

"I will be going now." She said quickly heading towards this door. Without another word Christine was left to her own solitude.

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><p><strong>I know, you guys are probably itching to see what I have planned for this baby. In due time, my friends, in due time. :)<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11-

Erik upheld his promise and avoided Wilma whenever she came for their weekly check-ups. Gradually she became more comfortable in their house though, when she caught glimpses of Erik, quickly turned tense. Occasionally, just to spite Wilma, Erik would casually wonder into the room and sit as though he were a quiet observer. Wilma, in turn, would flutter about nervously sometimes stuttering over her words. Christine could only later scold Erik, though he out right denied her accusations.

"It's getting close," Wilma said one afternoon after she had pressed mercilessly on Christine's lower abdomen. Christine had sat through the painful ordeal, trying hard not to wince. Erik responded likewise, clawing at the arm rest his chair. "I will come by tomorrow to check on your condition."

"Close?" Christine asked, she was shaking a bit. "The baby should be coming soon?"

"Yes," Wilma nodded; she didn't even attempt a smile through her thickly pursed lips. Erik's involvement had changed the whole atmosphere of their visits. She motioned to the areas of interest and carefully explained everything. "The baby is getting into position. I can feel the head down here," Wilma said gently pressing. The light pressure was still enough to cause Christine to gasp in shock, "Soon the contractions will start. That is what I will look for."

Christine nodded piteously. The idea of childbirth was still slightly surreal, but the impending pain wasn't something she was looking forward to. Erik sensed her discomfort and silently moved to her side. Wilma danced to the far side of the room, skillfully avoiding him. The couple ignored her and Christine was grateful for her husband's comforting grip. She leaned into his chest and breathed in his scent.

"Wilma," Erik said, surprising both women. He looked into her eyes, though she flinched away, a look of sincerity deep within them. "Words cannot describe how grateful I am that you are willing to care for my Christine, even after my presence was made known."

She looked down, her face flushed. Wilma twisted her hands, a clear sign of discomfort. Normally Erik would ignore her all together, act as though she were invisible. Instead he had addressed her personally; her reaction came as no surprise.

"You're welcome," she muttered under her breath. Her eyes became distant and withdrawn from the situation. Christine resisted the urge to laugh at her expense.

"You are proof, at least to me, that the human race can accept what they don't understand." Erik continued, choosing to ignore Wilma's troubled response. "You are the first person, besides Christine, to be willing to try to see the man behind the mask."

"I remember your mother," Wilma said in a light tone. Erik froze, growing rigid. "She'd always had a kind heart. When Charles, your father, died she was left alone with the prospect of giving birth to a bastard child. The priest helped, but neither of them was prepared for what they saw."

"That's enough," Erik said standing. He adjusted his Wig and tugged at his coat's hem. He shot Wilma a warning glance before resuming to his usual position by the window.

"She cried for you," Wilma said, frightened but willing to press on. "When you left she fell into hysterics. I-I know she didn't act like she loved you but, some of us believe she died of a broken heart. Torn to shreds by the son that left her alone."

"I said, ENOUGH!" Erik growled. Christine saw his hands shake with rage and feared what might become of Wilma should she dare to continue with her little speech. Erik didn't deserve to be plagued with guilt.

"Where did you go?" Wilma asked it was an innocent question that had never been answered. Slowly his figured turned to face them, revealing his troubled eyes.

"Anywhere you can imagine," he whispered slowly edging closer. "Persia, Paris where Kings and Queens hoisted their banners and selfishness reigned supreme. Places that harbored villains and evils, far worse than your imaginings. Then, deep in the catacombs of the Opera house I had tirelessly created, the only place where I could hear symphonies of song deep beneath the marbled passageway, lost in my solitude, lost in the darkness of Hell."

By the time he had finished he was close to Wilma. His posture wasn't threatening, only leery and full of warning. He was a man well capable of caring for himself, and defending himself. The foolish woman didn't dare to speak, her curiosity murdered by truth.

"We live in a cruel world," Erik hissed, "You are only party to that cruelty."

The insult was unwavering, and true. Wilma had sought to see Erik crumple with the weight of his own guilt. She hadn't anticipated him retaliating, as he had. He was weathered to the ways of people, used to their mocking voices and tactics. He seemed to see past her charade, past her feeble mental walls.

"Are there anymore questions you would like to have answered?" He asked mockingly. She stepped back, shaking. Christine, all the while, made no attempt to stop him. Shamefully she found herself equally curious to his life before the Opera Populair. Though she would never admit it, she felt her eyes open wider to the trials he had been forced through.

"N-no," Wilma said stepping back.

Erik nodded, satisfied by her answer, and moved back to his spot by Christine. She grabbed his hand, trying to comfort him. His didn't return her grip and she was disheartened by that. A pounding at the door came as an unexpected surprise. Christine clutched to Erik's hand tighter as he moved away, eventually she was force to release him as he bounded towards the stairs.

Out of nowhere three large village men, one could be recognized as the butcher, barged in. Wilma let out a cry as they pushed her aside, grabbing Erik before he could escape. Christine stood, paralyzed by fear and completely breathless. How had they found out? Images of Wilma's distant behavior only moments ago stirred feelings of betrayal. She was the only one that knew about Erik being here, she must have told someone.

"Gustav!" Wilma said approaching the butcher. "Leave them be! They don't deserve this form of invasion."

"Quiet woman," Gustav said slapping Wilma, sending her to her knees at the force of the blow. "Your involvement here will go unaccounted. This man must pay for his crimes."

"And what would those be?" Christine asked stepping from her place. Her hands caressed her midsection, hoping that they would have pity on her. Instead they seized Erik and pulled him towards the door carelessly. "Surely being born with a deformity can't count as a crime!"

"Christine, please," Erik said, though his captors gingerly sought to silence him. Erik fought harder, granting him a moment more. "You should have chosen the Viscount."

The air was knocked out of her as his words sunk into the pits of her soul. His attempt to comfort her did little towards intended goal. She sank to her knees, clutching at her heart. Christine felt as though it had been ripped out of her chest.

With a loud growl Erik threw back his head, revealing his wide maddened eyes. He yanked one of his arms free and landed a mighty punch on Gustav's ugly face. Erik ducked to avoid the third from grabbing him from behind, only to be tripped by the other. Gustav laughed, while Christine sat frozen in horror. The biggest man knocked Erik to the ground, a grunt escaping from his lips, and pressed his huge foot against Erik's throat. Christine longed to see the strong Erik return, the one who could scare people with a single look. Now he was on the ground, completely vulnerable.

A shock of pain coursed through Christine. She doubled over, resisting the urge to vomit. A muffled scream escaped from her tightly pursed lips as she fell to her knees. There she could see Erik's frightened eyes as he desperately tried to wriggle out of his captors grasp.

"Please," Christine said gasping with the force of the pain, "Have mercy!"

"Gustav," Wilma tried, her voice shaking with the fear of being hit again. Gustav made no move towards her, but didn't ask for his men to release Erik either. "This woman is expecting his child. If you keep this up she may go into premature labor. The baby could die!"

"Then that's better for the rest of us," Gustav's companion said victoriously. "We don't need another devil child influencing our village."

"Regi," Gustav silenced. He turned to Wilma, hatred deep in his eyes. "This is the last time you cross me, wife or no. I forbade you to return here, and you disobeyed me. Now I must ensure this never becomes a problem again."

"Don't harm him!" Christine said through clenched teeth. Sweat had gathered along her brow as the pain intensified.

"That I cannot promise," Gustav smirked. He motioned towards Regi and the third and they began to drag Erik away.

"No, no!" Christine screamed, standing against her weakness. She stumbled after them, screaming Erik's name. The last she saw of him was his mask, as it fell to the ground. "I need him."

Wilma came from behind and gently supported her, leading her back into the house. Christine fought against her motherly hold, eager to search for her husband. Another sharp pain shot through her body, causing her to cry out. Her head became foggy as the pain became unbearable. Now she didn't try to seem strong. Tears fell.

"Let's get you to your bed." Wilma said. They took one step at a time, Christine not strong enough to fight any longer. With all the tenderness of a mother Wilma saw to every need of Christine's.

The soon to be mother couldn't drink or eat anything. She cried for different reason, physical pain and fear for her husband.

"Erik is strong," Wilma said, her voice etched with emotion. "He will make it through this."

"No," Christine sobbed. "They'll kill him, I know they will."

"My husband may seem heartless but he isn't capable of murder." Wilma's words sounded hallow and empty. Gustav seemed just the man to end a life, no matter what his misled wife said. Wilma began to hum, her voice wasn't good but it soothed away Christine's shaking hands.

The pain seemed to subside for a while and Christine managed to eat a small portion of bread and drink a few glassfuls of water. She watched the window as the day slowly faded into night. The slightest sounds caused her heart to pound and hope to rise up inside her. Was it Erik returning to collect her, to steal her away into the night? Instead, it was just the wind rocking gently against the small cottage, blowing away her one form of security.

The pain returned, and with it the heartbreaking realization. This baby was coming, whether Erik was there or not. This child would grow up fatherless. They would relive Erik's childhood. A mother and her baby, lost to the world. Christine lurched forward and grasped her belly, clinging to it despite Wilma's urging for her o lay down.

"No matter what this child looks like," she said barely audible, "I will love him. He will know what a wonderfully talented father he had and will be like Erik in every way. He will play the piano and will be sung to sleep every night. He will be _loved_."

"Sh," Wilma said wiping away the wet hair that clung to Christine's face. Finally the midwife succeeded and Christine lay down, although reluctantly.

The pains intensified as time continued to tick by. Slowly exhaustion crept inside of her, threatening to throw Christine into a fit. It felt as though the baby would never come. She longed to see Erik's face, to feel his strong grip upon her hand, to hear his angelic voice. That voice, the one that filled her dreams with wonder and memories.

"You need to push," Wilma said, her voice husky and tired. "The baby will not come if you do not push."

"I can't!" Christine cried tears had wet her pillows to a soggy mess of feathers. "I'm not strong enough!"

"You are strong enough," Wilma promised.

"Not without him," Christine looked in her eyes, fear and anger resided there. "I can't do this without Erik!"

"You have to." The older woman hissed. "If you don't your baby will die, is that what you want?"

"No." Christine whimpered.

"Then push!"

With a mighty heave, and a few screams of pain Christine complied. Finally there was a release and everything went quiet. All that could be heard was the sound of Christine gasping for breath as her eyes grew heavy. Eventually everything went black around her. The only sound that could be heard was the lonely cry of a babe, it was over.

* * *

><p><strong>A very long chapter. Sorry for the wait.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12-

_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came,  
>that voice which calls to me,<br>and speaks my name.  
>And do I dream again? For now I find<br>the phantom of the opera is there  
>inside my mind.<em>

_**Sing once again with me our strange duet;  
>my power over you grows stronger yet.<br>And though you turn from me to glance behind,  
>the phantom of the opera is there<br>inside your mind.**_

_Those who have seen your face  
>draw back in fear.<br>I am the mask you wear,_

**It's me they hear****.**

His voice echoed in Christine's subconscious mind. She could see every perfect angle of his hand firmly grasping her wrist, unwilling to let her escape. He had finally managed to win her undivided attention, something he wouldn't trade for anything. All thoughts of her previous reacquaintance with Raoul had flown from Christine's mind as she gazed into this man's deep eyes. They moved her forward, with little coaxing needed. His unwavering intensity and the sound of his voice was enough to keep her enthralled with the mystery.

Eventually the path they traveled came to the foot of a narrow canal. The water was murky and its ripples moved with the current. There was a hidden beauty to it. The boat that waited was decorated by elaborate designs, Persian rugs lining the inside making a comfortable place for Christine to rest. It was clear this Phantom had excellent taste in the way he chose his decorations.

Silver candelabras lit their path as they rowed down the length of the underground river. Giant Cat Fish could be seen, lazily swimming just below the clear surface. The darkness became all consuming and shadows lurked just beyond the thin rays of candlelight. Christine found herself being reminded of the tales of frightening beasts that lurked in the darkness of night. Was the Phantom party to them? Was he a fabled creature that sought to steal her away from the light forever, to hide her selfishly so he could hear her voice?

Eventually the candles clumped thickly together, rising out of the water lighting instantly. It was a beautiful sight, a dozen flames dancing in unison. The liar, also expensively decorated, was full of extravagant taste and beauty. All of the sudden the thought of staying hidden away here didn't leave such a bitter taste in her mouth.

Gently Phantom grasped her hands and pulled her out of the boat. She stared at his mask desiring to see the face he had taken such care to keep hidden. Surely this man couldn't be hiding ugliness? His body looked like it had been carved from the Gods themselves, his face held mystery and his eyes shone with a bright intensity. They were unlike anything she had seen before. Christine continued to study his features, trying to extract some much desired understanding of her Angel of Music. Instead it was then, as he turned from her, that she saw it. There was a small hint of deformity on the right side of his face, his lip curled upward and downward exposing ghastly red pillows. They were bigger than what was natural and she gasped in shock. He heard this and positioned himself so his masked side was no longer visible. Slowly he turned his head towards her. His eyes were full of sorrow and longing, more than what any man should have been capable of containing.

"It's going to be alright." He said softly, and she believed him. It would be okay, because they were together.

* * *

><p>Wilma watched over Christine as she continued to dwell in a deep sleep. The beautiful child that Wilma carefully held in her arms was unlike anything she had ever seen before. The little girl had dark curls atop her head and eyes with the deepest color of blue she had ever seen. Her face was flawlessly beautiful, not one hint of her father's deformity plagued her features. It was as if she was the picture of what her father could have been, should he have not been cursed.<p>

The baby puckered her lips and nursed in her sleep. Slowly Wilma rose from her position by Christine's side. Uncharacteristically Wilma's mind strayed to Erik. Was he alive or dead? Guilt flooded into her mind. Only moments earlier he had been thanking her for her loyalty. Wilma felt as though she would vomit. His blood was on her hands. No man deserved to die, no matter how ugly. It was a harsh lesson to learn, true beauty couldn't be seen. In the end Gustav had been the one with the deformity.

Gently Wilma placed the little child in her crib. Instantly the baby stiffened and whimpered. Apparently she preferred to be held.

"You mustn't become spoiled," Wilma cooed, gently stroking the little one's face. "Your Mama wouldn't like it if you became rotten. Go to sleep, my angel."

Angel, it was so befitting, almost as though she were a gift from heaven's gates. Wilma settled upon calling the baby just that, Angel, until her mother woke from her slumber and found a better name. It wasn't her place to name the child.

Sound erupted from below. Wilma's heart jumped as she fled from the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Tentatively she traveled down the staircase and into the parlor. There was Gustav, his nose was bloodied and his hands a gruesome shade of maroon. Wilma made a wild attempt to keep from fainting. Seeing her husband looking so wild did little to sway the hatred she felt for him.

"Gustav," she said quietly from her position. Fear of what he might do to her caused her to shrink away from his cold glare. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," He sneered. "It's not me you should be worrying about."

"Oh, God," Wilma said stumbling back. She collapsed into the sofa as cruel realization sank in. "Did you kill him?"

"You shouldn't be concerned about our business," Gustav snapped. He ran one of his red hands through his grubby blond hair. "You are lucky I don't punish you for your disloyalty."

Wilma didn't dare speak against her husband. It would only get her a harsh slap across her face, she had already received one too many of those.

"Where is that woman?" Gustav asked his blood lust piqued.

"Gustav, please, leave her be." Wilma begged knowing what he planned to do. "She has been punished enough."

"Do you dare continue to disobey my orders?" He roared surging towards him. She held up her hands to stave off his attack, only to have him grab her wrist tightly. He yanked her forward. "I will ask you one more time. Where is the woman?"

"She is resting," Wilma shuddered. She wanted so desperately to keep silent but her nerves wouldn't allow her to. "She gave birth only moments ago."

"Then it seems I have another monster to destroy." He smiled and released her, shoving her back.

"Please, Gustav," she pleaded. "Leave them be! The baby is beautiful, nothing like her father. No one has to know."

"I will know." He said, his voice rising towards the rafters. "Do you wish to keep this scum's bloodline going? The baby will only breed with our children, eventually the curse will resurface."

Wilma's courage faltered as he headed towards the stairs. The face of Angel flooded into her mind. That perfect baby was about to be destroyed. Christine's one reminder would soon be snuffed out by Gustav, her husband. Wilma couldn't let that happen. She chased after him, picking up the first heavy thing her hand brushed across. With newfound vigor she intercepted him, blocking the door to Christine's room.

"I won't let you hurt her." Wilma said, hiding her make-shift weapon.

"Move out of my way woman," Gustav said trying to push his wife aside. Wilma held fast somehow managing to hold onto her spot. Her strength faltered, however, and he managed to shove her aside. He barged into the room and made towards the cradle. With all the bravery she could muster she rushed forward and clobbered him with her chosen object, which just happened to be a, rather large, candelabra. He spluttered and fell to his knees and, eventually, face-first onto the ground.

With a giant gasp realization flooded through her senses. She had just retaliated against her regularly abusive husband. There were signs of life as his back moved up and down, in tune to his breathing. She had to get Christine and Angel to safety. Wilma jumped over the body of her incapacitated husband and moved to Christine's side. She hated waking a sleeping mother, especially after she had just given birth. There was no guarantee that she would even wake.

"Christine," Wilma said, diving in without any further thoughts. "You need to wake up. You are in danger."

Slowly Christine's eyes blinked open. She saw Wilma's frightened face and jumped, grasping her arm.

"Where is Erik," Christine instantly asked. "What's happened to him?"

"I-I don't know." Wilma lied. Gustav stirred and Wilma continued on, a new urgency in her voice. "You have to hurry. Gustav came to kill A-your baby!"

"No," Christine breathed feeling her deflated abdomen. "Where will we go?"

"I don't know." Wilma said. "I can't help you, I have to stay here and ensure Gustav doesn't follow you. Come, hurry!"

That was all the urging Christine needed. Instantly, although she was weakened, she left her bed and changed into suitable clothing. She donned a red cloak that was enough to cover her face. Slowly Christine edged towards the cradle, eager to look upon her baby. The air was stolen from her chest as she gazed down at the tiny life that had grown inside of her.

"She's beautiful." Christine gasped in awe and shock. She gently fingered one of Angel's small curls. There wasn't any time for her to continue admiring the small baby, Gustav was bound to awaken any moment. With all the carefulness of the world she scooped the baby into her arms, carefully hiding the child beneath her cloak.

"Take the forest trail," Wilma instructed. "It will lead straight to the neighboring village. Once there ask to rent a carriage, with the right amount of money someone should be willing to transport you where you need to go."

"But I don't know where to go," Christine cried, clearly overwhelmed. The young woman's hands were shaking, causing the red fabric that enveloped her tiny body to quiver.

"Go to where you are led," Wilma advised. "I don't know where you've come from but follow your heart. Now, you must go!"

Christine obliged running down the stairs as carefully as she could. Before she left the house she grabbed a coin purse. Wilma followed her outside. Reluctantly Christine started towards the path. Suddenly she stopped and turned around.

"Where is Molly?" She asked looking around wildly. "I have to have her come with me."

"I haven't seen her." Wilma said glancing around. In truth the dog hadn't shown her face since she had arrived. "But you have to go. Don't worry; she might have followed the men. If she returns I'll care for her."

Christine was still reluctant to leave but she turned and took slow steps away from the cottage. Wilma's heart dropped as she dreaded what would happen when Gustav woke up. He no doubt would be angry. Hopefully he would accept the loss of Christine and not wish to pursue her. The face of Angel came into Wilma's mind and the urgent need to know what Christine would name her overcame her desperate need to see them again.

"Christine, wait," Wilma called running towards them. "What are you going to call her?"

Christine looked down at her daughter and revealed the angelic faced baby. A slight smile lit up the mother's features and an adoring sparkle caused Wilma's heart to soar. They would be alright, Christine and the child. They would find solace and safety.

"Erika," Christine said. "She will be called Erika, after her father."

Wilma's eyes filled with tears at the mention of Erik, poor soul. It was for the best, however, that Christine remained oblivious. She might fall into a deep depression and fail to care for Erika. That wasn't at all what Wilma desired. So Erik's demise would be kept carefully hidden, for both their sakes. Wilma pressed her hand on Christine's flushed cheek, the poor dear.

"Be safe," Wilma said as a final goodbye. Christine nodded, fighting back tears. Slowly they parted. Wilma would always remember the lesson that she had been taught, the lesson about true beauty.

* * *

><p><strong>I realize that some of you might not like the route that I have taken with the last chapter. I beg you, keep reading! Everything will work out according to plan. <strong>


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13-

Exhaustion wracked Christine's body as she trudged forward. The path was well worn but it didn't conceal the thick ruts. She continued walking forward, careful to keep herself balanced while her baby slept. Little Erika was a perfect image of her father. Her dark curls gathered at the top of her head while her bright curious eyes watched everything with innocent surprise by the things she saw.

It was horrifying how, in just a few short moments, Christine's world had come crashing down upon her. It was a sad truth that left her breathless and shaking. None of this would have happened if she hadn't betrayed Erik in the first place. If she had only ignored Raoul's insistence, they could be living under the opera house away from this violence. It was troubling, really, that Erik had to suffer due to her selfishness.

There seemed to be no way to escape her inevitable guilt. Erik was out there someone, possibly even dead. There was no say between what truth was and what could be wishful thinking. Christine shut her eyes against the gory thoughts that horrendously tried to take hold of her weakened mind. Maintaining as much motivation she possibly could she continued on.

* * *

><p>Darkness fell upon the road and a deep fright rose from behind the shadows. Erika began to grow restless. Between the stops to feed her and the weigh she provided not much progress had been made. Christine was beginning to let her worry get the best of her. What would she do once darkness cloaked them completely?<p>

It came as a welcome surprise when the sound of a horse and buggy reached her ears. She stopped her unsteady progress and looked over her shoulder, careful to keep Erika hidden. If they had come from Boscherville there was no doubt that they would be on high alert for her. In any case she was fully aware that she couldn't continue on without assistance. She was nearly positive she was heading towards Rouen.

Seeing Christine all alone the driver stopped his idle progress. Two women sat inside, both looking equally grubby and road worn. Hidden just behind their skirts were two chubby cheeked children lingered. Christine's feet ached for a moment of rest, but her voice refused to come.

"What are you doing traveling all alone?" The man asked, there was no hint that he was aware of the up rise that had taken place against her. "Night will be upon us within minutes; it's not safe for the likes of you to wonder along this path alone."

"My husband is missing sir," Christine answered, choosing truth rather than a false story. "I am all alone. I would be grateful if I could ride with you until Rouen."

"I would be happy to oblige," He smiled; she could see his kind heart and sighed in relief. "My wife and oldest daughter will be glad for the company."

"Thank you sir," she said and moved to the back where one of the women was working to unlatch the door. Unexpectedly she felt a presence behind her and was startled by the man. Suddenly she pulled away from his assistance, remembering the slumbering babe she carried. "I-I can do this."

The lie was thick. She was only using one arm to support her weight, and the strain was great. Despite her wishes the man grabbed her other arm and hoisted her into the bed of the wagon. Christine teetered forward only to have his wife save her from the fall.

"What are you hiding?" He asked casting her a curious look. He now noticed the lump protruding from beneath the red cloak.

"I – It's nothing," Christine lied casting her eyes downward. He seemed unwilling to accept this but moved away without further pushing his case. The wagon lurched forward as the horse tirelessly continued its journey.

"William is a good man," said the younger of the two women in a hushed voice. "You can trust us with your secret."

She seemed to have a kind heart to Christine. It reminded her of Meg Giry, her closest confidant back when she lived at the Opera Populair. Things seemed simpler back then. As a dancer Christine had only been subpar, never truly great like Meg. Together they would whisper in the background, avoiding the more difficult numbers. It wasn't until Carlotta walked out that Christine's dreams were realized. She became a Prima Donna, a singer.

As soon as these thoughts flooded through her mind she realized where she was going. She was headed towards Paris. This was the same road they had traveled when they fled the large city. Surly the damage would have been repaired by now. Andre and Firmen would gladly take her back, as would Madame Giry. She could sing for her keep, and if they wouldn't allow her on stage she would flee to Erik's lair. How she hoped it had survived the mob!

Christine's attention was instantly turned when the oldest woman gently draped a blanket over her shivering form. She hadn't realized how cold she was until then. Christine smiled her thanks and remembered the inquiry towards Erika. If she told them what harm could they do? They seemed nice enough. Chances were that they had never heard the maddening rumors concerning her Erik. So, with little fanfare she revealed the angel faced baby. Both women gasped in surprise and delight as the young boys edged closer to get a better look. Instantly Erika was popular.

"You have a baby," the daughter spoke in a tender voice. A smile touched her lips as she fingered one of Erika's soft black curls.

"I was chased from my home." Christine said as she stared into the face of her beloved child. "I am fleeing to some – family I have."

"That is horrible," the daughter continued to speak freely while the mother did little else but smile. "You are very lucky; she will be very beautiful one day."

"I hope so," Christine's heart lurched with the unspoken expectation. How she longed for Erik to look at the face of their daughter, to have his fears silenced once and for all. Obviously his deformity could not be inherited, a fact that was both relieving and gratifying.

* * *

><p>The wagon ride continued uneventfully. Both women, whose names were Alice and Carmen, dotted over Erika, both taking turns holding her when she fussed. There was no doubt that Erika would end up being spoiled if Christine didn't take some measures against the large amount of coddling. They reached Rouen well into the night and went their separate way. Christine gratefully paid William for his kindness, though he refused the money. She left some in the wagon anyway.<p>

She had no trouble finding a suitable inn. They treated her as any guest and she was sent to a secluded room. There were only two candlesticks available for use so she settled in the darkness ready for sleep to carry her away from her waking nightmare.

…_Come what may…_

It came as a simple whisper but sent chills shot down Christine's spine. It was that familiar hint of a voice, not quite human and not quite a ghost. Erika stirred in her sleep, her little fists punching in the air at the sudden sound. Quietly Christine walked over to the bed and carefully deposited her sleeping babe there, using the blankets as a wall to keep her from tumbling off the edge. Christine fingered one of Erika's curls hoping she would remain in her sleep. When the baby didn't stir Christine moved away, knowing she wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

Without Erik the room felt empty, and the bed felt wrong. His body was supposed to be next to hers. Lying there alone was only a harsh reminder that he may be gone forever, a fact that she wasn't willing to accept quite yet. She would wait until she was alone in his lair, the place that was always so full of music and romance.

Exhausted Christine placed a chair by the window and sat down. She pulled her knees to her chin and watched the outside world as it fell into the deep grasp of night. The activity had died; the only thing to be seen was the occasional drunk stumbling from the pub. The rest of the world seemed to have accepted it was time for rest, everybody but Christine.

Silent sobs fell from her lips as the face of her beloved husband plagued her, the look of him being dragged from their home. The last words he had said to her. She found them unfathomable; she belonged with him not Raoul. She had made that decision long ago, back in the lair. She had nearly drowned for his cause, and he had saved her in every since of the word. In many ways they had saved each other. Now to accept the fact that it was over, it was unfathomable.

_It's over now, the music of the night._

She sang those dreaded words with such feeling it came out as nothing more but a croak. Why did life have to be so unfair, first her father then Erik? What would providence wish to steal from her next? Her heart quickened as her mind traveled to Erika. If she lost her daughter what would be the point of living? She closed her eyes trying to chase away the rogue thoughts. She couldn't lose Erika. Christine would fight to protect her child, do whatever it took to shield her from the cruelty of people.

Erik had been right; righteousness among men was a fable. They sought to destroy what they didn't understand, as proved by Gustav. Never had Christine felt so liberated from her naivety. She was a woman now; she had been exposed to true violence. It was something she wouldn't easily forget.

* * *

><p><strong>Unfortunately it's another short Chapter... :**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14-

Paris was just how she remembered it. The streets were crowded with people hurrying along to their destination. The Opera Populair was easy to find, located in the center of the city. There was little changed about it, except for the removal of charred pieces of marble. But much was the same. People still gathered outside, eager to by the best tickets for the upcoming Opera. Christine was slightly dismayed to see Carlotta still had Andre and Firmen wrapped around her pudgy fingers. Trying to maintain all the confidence she could Christine walked up the stairs and into the main foyer. She was instantly greeted by Gerard, the doorman.

"Excuse me mademoiselle," he said then quickly stopped himself as her recognized Christine. "My God, you're back."

"I know it's rather sudden but," Christine allowed her voice to trail off, unsure of how her request would be handled. "I would like to speak with Monsieur Andre or Firmen."

"I shall fetch them for you." Gerard said quickly darting away. Christine remained standing in the refurbished foyer, completely awed that they had managed to restore it back to its former glory.

Within seconds the sound of three pairs of feet reached Christine's ears. Carefully, as she had done before, she hid Erika beneath her cloak. The two men quickly excused Gerard and escorted Christine to their office with not so much as a hello. Once inside she took a seat, grateful for the temporary reprieve. Both men stood close together leaning against the hickory wood desk.

"Where have you been?" Monsieur Firmen said in his usual blunt manner. Andre cast him a quick look before returning to his former doubtful scowl.

"I have been living in a cottage just outside Boscherville." She said dodging the specifics. If they knew Erik was who she was with through the duration of her absence they might not accept her back. "I was trying to escape this busy lifestyle."

"Understandably," Andre scoffed. "After that Phantom we hardly expected you to return to the Opera Populair. So, you being here is quite a shock."

"There was a – misfortune," Christine said keeping her emotions in check. "I have nowhere else to go."

"We will be glad to have you back," Andre said and Firmen rolled his eyes to show his disagreement.

"However," Firmen said in his expected quick retort. "I cannot assure you of any lead roles. I am sure Madame Giry would be glad to take you on as a dancer. It is my understanding she is always in need of them."

"I shall send Gerard to fetch her." Andre announced leaving the room. Christine shifted uncomfortably. Erika stirred but remained silent, thankfully. Christine wasn't sure what they would do if they discovered her hidden treasure.

Within a few short moments Andre returned with Madame Giry at his heels. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw that Christine had indeed returned.

"It is you," She said, her voice ragged.

"Hello Madame," Christine nodded her head respectfully, trying to find every reason seem as humble as possible.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Madame Giry whispered. There was a distant look in her eyes as she considered some unknown option.

"I'm here now," She said looking down slightly, her face flushed. "I need a place to stay."

"You can have your old room," Giry said with little consult from the two managers, who both scowled in unison. The woman held up her withered hand to stave off their refusal, casting them a meaningful glance. "I insist."

"Ah, I suppose Carlotta wouldn't mind a different room." Andre said trying to seem as hospitable as possible.

"Mind?" Firmen scoffed. "We have hardly been able to convince Signora Carlotta to do the simplest of tasks. What makes you think she will willingly hand over the largest dressing room we have?"

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Christine said her voice barely audible.

"Nonsense," Madame Giry waved totally disregarding Firmen's denial. "I shall escort her there at once."

Without waiting for any further argument Madame Giry pulled Christine out of the office and up the stairs. Christine had forgotten how quickly the older woman could walk for her age. It was only a matter of steps until they had reached Christine's old dressing room. There had been some minor alterations done, but nothing too drastic. Carlotta had definitely gone wild with the pink fixtures. But it was something that could be changed.

"Madame Giry," Christine said resting her hand upon the woman's arm. "I don't feel comfortable taking this room from Signora Carlotta."

"Don't assume I don't know your true reason for being here." Giry said a slight harshness upon her vocals. "You do not plan to stay in this room. You only want to see _him_."

Christine's breath instantly escaped her body. She stumbled backwards into the vanity's chair, grateful for the moment of reprieve.

"Is he here?" Christine asked a thick desperation to her voice.

"If he is he has been strangely silent for months," Madame Giry still didn't understand and continued speaking assuming that Christine had chosen Raoul. "Since you unmasked him he has been keeping to himself, not bothering anybody. One would think he wasn't here at all, one would think he had died."

"He didn't die," Christine said before she could still her own tongue. She opened her cloak revealing Erika. Madame Giry looked down at the baby, quieted and curious. "I married him and this is our daughter."

"This cannot be," Giry gasped edging closer to get a better look of the child. "She is far too perfect to belong to him."

"How dare you think of him like that," Christine exclaimed quickly covering Erika back up. "This is our daughter, her name is Erika."

Madame Giry covered her mouth and doubled over, crying. She clutched at her corset as though it were hard for her to breathe. Never had Christine seen this woman, who also doubled as a second mother, react in such away.

"You made him happy," she finally said cutting through the silence. Abruptly she moved to the mirror and pulled it to the side, revealing the secret passage way. It was still there. "Go, I trust you know the way?"

Christine nodded solemnly and stepped through the threshold, into the familiar darkness. There was an anticipation itching across her skin, what would she find deep below the opera house? With one final wave Christine set off to find the answer to her question.

She remembered every step, every breath and every second she was enveloped in the winding darkness. It had been much easier when Erik had carefully led her through it, without so much as a misplaced step. When she reached the underground canal the boat was waiting. Christine's breath quickened, was he alive? Was he here? Carefully she stepped into the boat and took her seat, unwrapping Erika. The baby started crying as the dampness plagued both of them. Christine did her best to comfort her child, though the attempt seemed useless. Without any prompting or help from her the boat started on its own, classic Erik trickery.

Eventually they came to the opened iron gates. Water dripped from below as they continued. The lair seemed untouched, the same as she remembered it. The candles were lit most concentrated by the organ, Erik's favorite instrument. The moment the boat came to a stop she jumped out and moved towards the black swan bed. She laid Erika down and moved away, eager to discover what this place had to offer.

Then it came, soft at first but undeniable in tune and lyric. It wafted from the shadows gently brushing against her senses, causing her to gasp in delight. The air grew thicker around her as desire stirred from within.

_All day long_

_I can hear people_

_Talking out loud_

_But when you hold me near _

_You drown out the crowd_

_Try as they may_

_They could never define_

_What's been said_

_Between your heart and mine_

He was singing to her. It had been so long since she had last heard the gentle seduction of his voice and now she nearly screamed for longing. She wanted to feel his lips against hers but she knew that no amount of begging would tempt her to come from the shadows. She would have to speak the only language he understood, and she would do so gladly.

_Angle I hear you speak, I listen_

_Stay by my side, guide me!_

_Angel, my soul was weak forgive me_

_Enter at last master._

_**Flattering child you shall know me**_

_**See why in shadows I hide**_

_**Look at your face in the mirror**_

_**I am there, inside!**_

She did as she was told and sure enough there he stood, perfect in every aspect of the word. He was masked, and a bit bruised on the visible part of his face, but other than that she found no other flaws. She blinked back relieved tears, words and song failing. Losing all control she fell to her knees, overcome by emotion.

Christine wasn't sure when, or how, Erik stepped from beyond the glass; all she felt was his strong arms lifting her towards him. Feeling complete she tightly wrapped her arms around his torso, not wanting to let go. He didn't complain, or move away, he just let her cry. Christine did so for a long while until the sound of another's frustrated whimpers echoed off the stone walls. It was Erika.

Christine moved away, tightly grasping Erik hand. His eyes smiled into hers as she slowly led him towards the swan bed. There, wrapped in white cloth, Erika lay pink faced and irritated.

"Erik," Christine said, prepared to give the introductions. "This is our new angel of music, Erika."

Erik's strength seemed to fail him and he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His perfect hands brushed against Erika's cheek, gently wiping away her tears. She instantly quieted in response, as though his touch alone had transformed her. Without any instruction he lifted her into his arms where she was then tightly cradled. It seemed so natural to see Erik holding their baby, a sight that Christine thought would be only wishful thinking. But here Erik was, alive and somewhat unscathed. She was sure his tale was long, and impressive. She felt bashful for every assuming he would be beat by the weak-minded villagers.

Now they would belong to each other again, living in perfect harmony with Erika. Their story was unwritten.

* * *

><p><strong>Before you ask, this is not the ending. I made it sound like it though, didn't I? xD Anyway, credits are due. The first bunch of lyrics is called When you say nothing at all by Ronan Keating. The second is, obviously, Mirror from the Phantom of the Opera. I typed it by hand so please, forgive any errors. <strong>


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15-

That night Christine lay with her head against his chest. Erik's held her in place protectively while his other hand, or rather his finger, was held tightly in Erika's tiny palm. For the duration of their time together they stared down at their precious baby as she slept, lips puckered in her sleep.

Erika had given them a rough time, crying her little lungs out. After being so quiet during their journey, Christine had been surprised by the sudden burst of enthusiasm. Erika was, after all, only four days old. She seemed already fond of her father, and Erik returned the affection. After only a few short hours she already cried whenever she didn't feel him near. Christine couldn't help but smile to see her husband reduced to an obedient man. He would coo at her and lift Erika in his muscular arms, she would be silenced immediately.

"I plan to leave the opera house tomorrow," He said, breaking the silence. Christine's eyes fluttered open and she sleepily listened. "Erika needs a cradle; she can't possibly take over our bed."

"I'm not sure how she'll react to that," Christine chuckled casting a glance down at the sleeping babe. "She hasn't slept on her own since she's been born."

"We don't want to raise a spoiled daughter, do we?" He teased kissing his wife's nose. Quickly, before he could retreat, she grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. He resisted at first then relaxed, returning the kiss. When he pulled away he was smiling mischievously. "Besides, I would like to have my bed back."

She hummed at fell back into place. She felt exhaustion creep into her bones, not only physically but mentally as well. Worrying for Erik's life had completely left her spent. Relief caused her tight muscles to relax and her mind to realize how tired she truly was.

"I will also try and make arrangements for us." He said returning to his serious tone of voice. "We can't rightly remain here. Erika will need to be properly socialized, not kept in the dark. With the money that I have acquired through the years to buy us a manor just outside of Paris, we can live a comfortable life of luxury."

"I don't need a large house," She protested. She had found she rather enjoyed the quiet life back at the cottage. "I want to be able to clean my own house, raise my children and care for my husband. A large flat would suffice."

"Your wish is my command," He smiled teasingly pulling his finger from Erika's demanding grasp.

"But I do have one request," Christine said sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind having a cook."

His laugh echoed off the stone walls and his agreement was thick. If there was anything lacking in Christine it was her cooking ability. They stayed up late, talking her fears away.

* * *

><p>Slowly they fell into an easy routine. Christine spent many hours each day dancing on stage and, even, securing some minor singing roles. Carlotta was efficient in her plot to ensure Christine never replaced her again. But the lack of accidents and threats seemed to loosen the tension between them.<p>

While Christine was above Erik tirelessly looked after Erika. The two got along great and no issues presented themselves. She turned out to be a content child and never cried without a reason. Erik left often to go above ground, his search for a place for them to live was constant.

Madame Giry kept Erika a secret, as evidence by Meg's characteristic giddiness. She told stories of when she reached Erik's lair, only to find a smashed mirror and everything as untouched. She spoke of her turning the mob astray to protect Erik, even though he wasn't there. She was completely oblivious to the fact that Christine had married the renowned Phantom of the Opera.

"I would have liked to meet him," said Meg as they retreated back to their old way of escaping the more difficult numbers. "He seemed a misunderstood man."

"He is," Christine blurted and she quickly shut her mouth. Meg noticed, however, and cast her a curious look.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked stubbornly. Christine scowled at herself for being so foolish. Now her friend would surely suspect something.

"Simply that I knew him best," Christine said struggling to stave off any unwanted curiosity. "He was driven mad by his love for me, and my betrayal."

"What I can't seem to understand," Meg said suddenly stepping away from her question. "Why didn't you go with Raoul? Surely you two would be married by now. And, also, why did you return here? After everything the Phantom put you through I would think you would never return."

"I couldn't stay away," Christine squeaked. Her words were unconvincing and Meg noticed.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked indignantly. Her arms were crossed and her eyes pleading. Luckily Madame Giry chose that moment to intervene.

"Meg Giry," she called in a chastising tone of voice. "I expect more from you than to see you hiding in the shadows. Go at once."

Meg bowed her head and scurried off. Madame Giry's demeaning gaze didn't go unnoticed and Christine looked away, biting her lip. She could hear the faint sound of Erik's amused laugh from the shadows and she stirred. What was he doing above ground? Where was Erika?

"_Do not worry," _He soothed from behind. _"She will never be in any danger so long as she is with me."_

Christine believed him. He would do anything to protect Erika. The chorus stirred from the center of the stage, all flooding around Carlotta who was crying loudly from her position.

"It's happening again!" She said, utter horror written on her voice. "I can't sing! All I can do is croak like a toad!"

Carlotta's eyes turned fiery as they found Christine, locked in place by the shadows.

"This is your fault!" Carlotta accused. Christine gapped in shock. "If it wasn't for that Phantom none of this would be happening!"

"He isn't here!" Christine lied, part of it was true. Erik wasn't the Phantom anymore. He had changed into a respectable man, devoid of his past eccentricities. "How dare you, accuse me of such a heartless crime."

"Don't play innocent!" Carlotta yelled rushing forward.

"Signora, please!" Reyel said ready to intervene. Carlotta's attack was staved. "Laryngitis is very common among Opera singers. Go home, get some rest and call a doctor. When you are well you may return to us. In the meantime, your role of Margarita will be given to Ms. Christine Daae."

"Sir," Christine rose to protest, not sure she was willing to expect the lead role in Faust.

"Say nothing more Ms. Daae." Reyel waved. "You are the most logical person to understudy Signora Carlotta. I will discuss the details with our managers."

Christine was led off stage by the seamstress, gaping like a codfish. Her anger boiled. She only wanted to be a dancer. Her voice had retreated back to its untrained nature; it would require a lot of work to bring it up to par. Work that she wasn't sure she would be willing to participate in.

* * *

><p>"Erik, what have you done?" Christine exclaimed when she had returned to the lair. He looked up from his seat at the organ, Erika situated in his lap wide eyed as usual.<p>

"I don't understand your meaning, love," He answered with not so much as a look of surprise.

"I've landed the role of Margarita," She clarified, her voice like ice.

"So I've heard!" He beamed. "Congratulations, this is a surprise neither of us expected."

"Nor did I desire it." She spat. "I swore never to sing on stage again, and here I am being pushing into the role by Monsieur Reyel."

"You would be wasting your talent if you did such a thing Christine," Erik said never once faltering from his casual expression. "Can you honestly say you never again wished to sing upon a stage?"

"After what happened during Don Juan my thirst for fame died," She explained, growing a bit weak. "Already Carlotta is blaming me for her loss in Faust. How do you think this will look to Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmen?"

"Naturally they would assume my hand would be in it." He clucked disapprovingly. "It is their own superstition then. My attention has been turned elsewhere."

"And where would that be?" Christine demanded ignoring his look of displeasure at her tone.

"I am recomposing Don Juan." He announced with little fanfare. Quietly he placed Erika on the ground, far from the lake's edge. She remained seated and Christine marveled at how she had grown. Her mind had flown far from what they were presently disagreeing about.

"You can't possibly be considering that," She gasped, her mind returning to what he had said. "Don Juan destroyed the Opera Populair's reputation; you wouldn't want to repeat that disaster."

"Disaster?" Erik exclaimed, her face turning a vibrant shade of red. "Christine, I never thought you as the heartless sort."

"I'm not heartless," Christine said bashfully. She cast her eyes downward, ashamed of the words she had spoken. "I don't understand your fascination with that orchestration of yours."

"At least you refrained from using the word 'silly'," How he had read her mind was beyond Christine's comprehension. It was clear he was greatly offended by her lack of support. "What you may not know is that Don Juan is my life's work. Do you expect me to abandon it so harshly?"

"No," She slumped her shoulders. How had they even gotten onto this subject? She didn't honestly mean everything that she had said. Quickly she remembered the true reason for her anger. "Please, just tell me the truth. Did you sabotage Carlotta?"

"What would be my motive for doing that?" Erik demanded. "You have more talent than you would like to admit. As your husband I forbid you to remain in the chorus dancing around in frilly tutus."

"What is wrong with dancing?" She asked unafraid of his anger. There had been a time when his outbursts seriously frightened her, now that had faded. She knew him more intimately than any other human she had the pleasure to know.

He stepped forward and grasped her forearms lovingly. His eyes were probing and gently intense. When he spoke his voice was soft and caring. "It's not who you are."

"It is now." She pulled away and walked towards Eliza. Quickly Christine scooped her up and pressed her cheek against her daughter's chubby one. "My voice has brought nothing much chaos. I can't do that again."

"This time I won't force you," Erik stepped forward and planted a kiss on his wife's forehead. He looked into his eyes, his mask transforming his look. "I promise, never again will you be put in that situation."

With her daughter in hand, Christine leaned against his chest. His arm's supported her, and her dreams. Her mind reeled with the different options. She could back out of Faust and risk disappointing her husband, or continue to pursue her dreams. The second option definitely sounded more favorable. Erika began to fuss, no longer enjoying the tender moment between her parents. With a slight smile Christine placed Erika in her elaborate crib.

"Erik," Christine said returning to her husband's side. He looked down at her, eyebrow cocked. "If I'm going to play Margarita, we have a lot of work to do."

His excitement was undeniable. He lifted her in the air and spun her around. When her feet were once again on the ground he led her to the organ, prepared for lessons to begin.

* * *

><p>That night they lay together. Erika had been asleep for a while so the lair was silent. The sound of the water lapping against the bank was soothing and lulled Christine to sleep. But something continued to nag at her.<p>

"Erik," She whispered in order to avoid waking Erika. "What is my married name?"

"You are Christine Destler," He said then leaned away as if to further ponder this. "Haven't we discussed this?"

"No," She shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "Madame Destler, I like the way that sounds."

"As do I." He agreed. Without any warning he pressed his lips to hers. Her body arched towards him. Before she knew it she was surrendering herself to him. They had a glorious night ahead of them.

* * *

><p><strong>Slightly shorter than normal. I am so sorry for that! Anyway, I derived the last name of Destler from the Horror film Phantom of the Opera. I hope you enjoy this chapter. <strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Firstly I'd like to apologize if Erik is a bit out of character. As I wrote him I found I didn't really like how I was portraying him...which isn't really a good sign. Secondly I would like to thank all of my devoted readers. Without you my motivation for this story would have faded by now. Please, continue to read faithfully and leave reviews. They really brighten my day.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 16-<p>

The days ahead were monotonous. Nothing exciting happened except the small tender moments with Erika. She seemed to grow every time Christine turned her eyes upon the small child. Erik left the comfort of the lair and it seemed he was gone longer than he was there. Christine felt slightly flustered by the whole situation. Erika was completely impossible without her Papa around. She refused to stop crying and to sleep. When Erik was home he spent most of his time trying to calm the soggy little girl who, after a day full of tantrums, was exhausted. Christine, normally, was asleep before Erik decided to amble over to their bed. He was quite content to compose until the late hours. Needless to say there was an unspoken tension thick in the air above them. Not only had those things transpired, but Erika developed a cough do to the moisture in the air. Christine was beside herself with worry.

"Erik," Christine said one afternoon when he had decided to come home early. "I'm not sure how much longer we can remain here. Little Erika is beside herself and her cough has worsened. We must find a place to life."

"Fear not my dearest wife," He smiled and planted a kiss upon her forehead. "I just purchased a cozy modest house just outside Paris."

"When were you planning on telling me this?" she demanded. Her hair was quite scraggly and her appearance unseemly. Erika had only just surrendered to sleep after hours of restless wakefulness and Christine didn't feel at all in a forgiving mood.

"I came here to fetch you two immediately," Erik announced innocently. He didn't seem at all perturbed by his wife's vicious demeanor and simply strode away to gather Erika's things into one of her many whicker hampers. "It is fully furbished equipped with a small stable in the back. I shall buy us a carriage; I suspect you will desire one, what with all the trips to the Opera Populair. It's not at all over staffed, only two cleaning maids who double as Kitchen help. The cook has excellent taste…"

Erik's words faded into the background as Christine sleepily stumbled to the curtained off portion of the lair. It was hard on her to conceal her excitement but, after what she had been through the past couple of weeks, her nerves were frayed. Slowly, with some assistance from Erik, she began to pack her things. It felt like ages before everything was finally loaded atop their rented carriage. Miraculously Erika remained asleep in her Papa's arms throughout the journey. It was a fact that made Christine increasingly happy; she wasn't sure how she would react if she had the misfortune to hear another moment of shrill crying!

The carriage ride wasn't horribly long, but the house was a further distance outside of town than Christine had anticipated. She found herself riddled with worry as she began to calculate the many trips she would be forced to make in one day alone. She knew Erik would vehemently protest against her backing out of Faust, after all the work they had done he would no doubt be extremely peeved if she did something so inconceivable.

Suddenly the carriage lurched to the right. Christine hadn't been the sudden window road and found herself jostled back and forth. Erik, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed. Christine scowled at his from under her pulled up hood. Silently she scooted so that she could peer out one of the windows.

Trees lined the road as a deep wilderness surrounded them. The path they were currently traveled seemed untouched, except for the visible hoof and wheel tracks. It was obvious this house was off the main road. Christine watched as the density of the forest gradually lessened and evened out into a more pleasurable yard. Fences emerged out of nowhere as horse paddocks seemed to spring from the ground itself. She was sincerely struck by the beauty of it. Ivy wrapped itself around the fence and a few horses grazed lazily atop a grassy hill.

The ivy continued to travel, uninterrupted by time and eventually took hold of a different type of fencing. The carriage came to a grinding halt as they stopped directly in front of an iron gate. The design wasn't too intricate, and Christine found it quite tasteful. Feminine swirls bunched together in all different sizes, the top curled up to form a heart that broke apart when the gate was opened.

Christine's first look out the house left her breathless. Erik's modest description was far from truth. There was nothing _'little' _about the house she now gazed upon. Compiled of red brick and white pillars it seemed to be a size smaller than an acceptable manor. The driveway circled around a small fountain and offered an acceptable exit right at the front door. Outside stood, what looked to be, the house's staff.

The carriage halted, much more gracefully than before, and a footman moved to open it for his new mistress. Once again Erik had failed to properly present the situation to her. He now passed Erika, who had blinked awake at the sudden change of events, and exited the carriage first. Christine gaped in surprise as her husband offered his hand and gently helped his wife out of the carriage. He seemed as comfortable as ever, his past people issues dissolved.

"May I present to you our staff," Erik announced waving to the small ensemble. There was one butler, two footmen, two maids, a ladies maid, and a cook. "This is the head of the house, our butler, Mr. Walters. This, my dear, is your maid, Mademoiselle Antonia."

"I must beg for all of your forgiveness," Christine stepped forward and smiled at them all, even though it was slightly unfeeling. "I was not expecting to have such a welcome."

"Madame," one of the maids said with a slight curtsy. "Should I take Mistress Erika to her room for you?"

The request seemed slightly out of place and Christine gaped, slightly stunned. Only then did she grow aware of how her arms ached from the constant coddling of such a needy child. Erika was, honestly, exhausting. But never had Christine allowed another, other than Erik, to lay the baby to rest. It had always been a job that she had been fond of, it seemed ludicrous to pass the task to another.

"Love," Erik said in a lowered tone. "This is Mademoiselle Diana, she will be charged with caring for Erika when you are unable."

Christine bit back her protest knowing this was neither the time nor place to pose an unwelcome scene. She didn't want to seem improper in front of her new _staff_. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth and she couldn't help but furrow her brow in an honest response. Reluctantly she released the child to Diana.

"I assume you all have things you must see to," Erik said. "I can manage on my own."

They all looked around slightly confused. Diana bowed and scurried into the house. Christine stiffened as Erik's hand came to rest upon her lower back. Slowly he led her inside. Christine soon forgot her reason for being peeved as she gazed around her. They had entered an open passageway. Pillars lined both sides of the path. On the left it seemed there was an open library whereas, on the right, there was a public drawing room. Both were beautifully furnished with all of Erik's favorite colors. The vibrant reds and golds swam around her as she seemed lost in some fantasy. The marbled floors swirled in different earthy tones, each setting off different hues in the stone. Above her hung an elegant crystal chandelier, one of Erik's favorite features no doubt.

"This is not what I expected," Christine whispered, leaning into him as he continued to lead her towards the staircase.

She took time to look around. Just beyond the foot of the stairs there was a large double door framed by impeccably clean windows. The door itself was windowed and clean white drapes hung from the highest point. Christine could clearly make out a blooming garden, a pleasant resort.

Perpendicular to the door leading to the gardens was another. It was closed so there was no saying what lay behind it. Hidden on either side of the stair case was another door, most likely leading to the kitchen and dining room.

"Don't pretend you aren't thrilled." Erik smirked. Honestly she was slightly excited to be living in such an extravagant home. Her questions were on a totally different subject. She was still confused as to why Erik had seemed so comfortable around the servants. He acted as though he had been an ordinary man, something he had never done before.

Upstairs there was double the amount of rooms than they had when they lived in Boscherville. Eight was all that Christine could count. Plus there seemed to be another set of double doors which would, no doubt, lead to Erik's private study. She hoped the servants were fond of music.

Erik opened a door and led her in. The room which she found herself in was huge, decorated with his classic Persian style and color scheme. It was furnished with a large canopied bed with a night table on both sides. There was a vanity covered in wrapped boxes and a gold encrusted chair sat prettily awaiting her use. The rug on the ground contained a perfect blend of red, gold, browns and blacks. There was a fireplace and two arm chairs. Directly in front of where she stood was a set of double doors leading to a veranda. It took her breath away.

"Do you like it?" Erik asked choosing this moment to act wary.

"It's – amazing!" She exclaimed pushing aside her stubborn countenance.

"I'm glad you are pleased." He rushed forward looking to embrace her. Christine dogged his attempted grab for her and allowed her scowl to return. He stopped and crossed his arms, looking equally stubborn. "What is it?"

"I would like to hire a different maid to care for Erika." Christine stated her conditions. "You might not agree with my choice."

Erik said nothing and his eyes grew unreachable. He was preparing for her request and, perhaps, contemplating beforehand if he would accept it.

"But first," Christine said pushing that matter aside for later. "I am curious about one thing."

"So am I." He countered eager to return to their previous topic. She lowered her eyes and begged her resolve to obey.

"Why – I mean – I've never seen you act this way in front of anyone before." She blurted out completely ignoring his statement. "I don't understand."

"They've all signed a contract," Erik explained moving to the more masculine of the arm chairs. Casually he said down and peeled off his mask, breathing a sigh of relief to be able to feel the cool air brush across his sweaty brow. As was normal for her Christine hardly noticed the change. "They are not permitted to speak about my mask, or tell any outsider of my residence here. If they do they will be turned out and prosecuted."

Christine bit her lip and sat herself in her appointed chair. "How can you insure they obey?"

"Mr. Walters doubles as my lawyer." He smirked. "He has agreed to pose as the house hold butler in order to keep tabs on the staff. If anything goes awry I shall know of it immediately."

"Aren't you still wanted for the murder of Buquet and Piangi?" Christine asked, no doubt her questions were beginning to grate on Erik's nerves.

"I have repaid my debt to society in regards to those unfortunate lapses in reason." He explained, watching the fire as it flickered in the fire place. The heat cause Christine cheeks to grow rosy but she found it a pleasant comfort to be able to be removed from the damp quarters she had been pulled from. "I am now on the good side of the law."

Christine breathed a giant sigh of relief. Being married to a wanted criminal hadn't always loomed over her head and she hadn't truly been aware of how troubling it really had been until it was removed. She watched Erik intently as he continued to stare blankly at the fire. As time with him ticked on she found she actually preferred to look at his unmasked face. It was natural, it was who he was. In its essence it was the face of the man she loved, how could she not learn to adore it?

_It's amazing_

_How you can speak_

_Right to my heart_

_Without saying a word_

_You can light up the dark_

_Try as I may_

_I could never explain_

_What I hear when_

_You don't say a thing_

Once again she found herself singing on impulse. Erik didn't seem to mind and he leaned into the sound of her voice and closed his eyes, begging for more. Unfortunately she was unable to comply as her exhaustion slowly creeped back into her bones. She let out a ragged breath and fell into the back of her chair, welcoming its soft support. He turned to look at her.

"Now," He said casually. "Who do you want to hire for our daughter's nurse?"

"Um, I – well, I don't think you will agree." She stuttered wringing her hands. Her heart screamed that she wasn't being rash, but feeling truth. It seemed the most logical choice. Erik said nothing, only remained characteristically silent. His eye brows rose slightly in silent encouragement. "I want to hire Wilma, from Boscherville."

Instantly he stiffened and rose from his chair, turning his back on her. It became obvious that there were still many details about the incident with Gustav that were untold. Erik usually didn't speak about it, and rightfully so.

"No." He growled deep within his throat.

"Erik, please -," Christine was unable to finish as Erik turned towards her, his eyes blazing with finality.

"My answer is no," His stance warned her to challenge his authority and Christine was surprised to feel slightly tempted. He pointed a finger in her direction and a wave of familiarity crashed upon her. "You will have to be contented with Diana. I refuse to allow that – that _woman_ back into my home. Not after she so heartlessly deceived us."

"Erik, she didn't mean to!" Christine was now on her feet, her face flushed pink with anger. "She cared for me, defended me against Gustav while I was resting. Doesn't that make her worthy of this position?"

"Christine," Erik's voice easily overpowered hers and she shrank back. He rushed forward and grabbed her wrist tightly in his grasp. His eyes were blazing and his jaw set. He lowered his voice as his grip tightened, "don't speak of this again."

He left her with those words. Abruptly he released her arm and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She was left alone, gaping. Only then, when he was nowhere in sight, did her anger flair.

That was the first night, since they first got married, that they slept in separate rooms.

* * *

><p><strong>As you can tell I was really forced to do some pretty intense description. I hope it wasn't to confusing! <strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Holy cow, this is a long chapter...I hope it isn't full of me rambling on and on. I tend to do that sometimes. Oh, the last chapter I forgot to credit the lyrics. They are, once again, When you say nothing at all by Ronan Keating. Please remember to Review and subscribe! Thanks!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 17-<p>

"We should throw another Masquerade," Firmen said as he barged in upon one of Monsieur Reyel's impromptu rehearsals. The chorus was called to silence as a tense excitement fell upon them. Andre shot to attention and, for the first time, was forced to the more reasonable of the two.

"Is that wise?"

"Monsieur, our poor cast has been without entertainment for far too long," Firmen said casting a sympathetic look at the crowd. He paused slightly longer than necessary when his eyes fell upon Christine. She had a look of utter solemnity, which came as a surprise. Normally she was among the other's begging for festivities.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in a more private setting?" Andre suggested, shifting uncomfortably. Firmen held up his hand to stop his fellow manager from protesting more than what was needed.

"Nonsense, it has been decided." Firmen spat. His eyes narrowed as he turned towards Andre briefly before returning to his previous position. "There shall be no parties. In fact, Monsieur Reyel, you might as well cancel this ridiculous excuse for a rehearsal."

"Firmen, what is the meaning of this unbecoming outburst?" Andre asked sincerely surprised. The silence thickened more than what it should have been.

"This is the _reason_!" Firmen dug a worn piece of stationary from his coat pocket and thrust it towards his closest comrade. Andre fumbled with the folds until it was flattened completely, with a look of undefined dread he began reading. Firmen stopped him and, once again, gestured at the stage and those who stood there. "Read it aloud."

Andre complied reluctantly. "'To the Managers of the Opera Populair, sirs Andre and Firmen, this is rather hard news to deliver and I hope that you will not take it personally. I am quite fond of the arts, as you both should know. We do, after all, live in a world that revolves around money and whether you have enough o f it. I cannot complain, as I see my situation quite comfortable.' I don't understand."

At Andre's brief pause Firmen groaned loudly and spun around. He used his hand, in which he held his velvet top hat, to cover his face. With slight flick of the wrist he requested that Andre continue.

"'In light of recent events I must hereby state my complete and utter congratulations,'" Andre's eyes skipped over the more formal portions of the letter. His face drained as color and his voice shook when he continued, "I am writing to formally withdraw my Patronage of the Opera Populair. Again, I must remind you that this decision is not personal. My heart will always belong to the arts, and you two gentlemen hold my fondest respect. I wish you the best of luck. Yours truly, the Vicomte de Changy, Raoul.'"

Christine grew rigid at the mention of her former fiancé. Without Raoul as a patron how would the Opera House continue to run? Surely they could barely manage with the wages earned from the sales of tickets but the funds it would take to efficiently pay the staff, it would leave them with nothing left.

Everybody seemed to exclaim at once. Shouts of shock rose high to the rafter and Christine could swear she saw the chandelier shake. Monsieur Firmen continued his nervous chatter as Andre stood in unreadable shock.

"Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyel," Andre finally managed to croak. "Please honor me with your presence in my office. It seems we have some serious matters to discus."

Quickly all four of the important people, including Firmen, scurried out of the theatre. Christine stood on stage, still in costume. Her breath suddenly quickened as her thought whirred inside of her mind. Here she was finally living the dream. Faust had received a very successful opening night and they were already three weeks into the production. It seemed unfathomable that they should be forced to close their doors for good.

What would Erik say? Christine's heart stopped. What would he say? From what she had gathered this opera house had been a big part of his past. He had been its architect, its creator! No doubt he would be enraged to see it closed for good, not that he needed any help in that area. The only way the Opera Populair could survive was if Andre and Firmen could produce another Patron with an equal amount of money, if not more.

All the lights seemed to flash on at once. Before she could stop herself she was running off the stage and towards the main foyer. The cast's displeased cries chased her as she burst out the doors and continued towards the managers' office. She stood outside for a few seconds trying to catch her breath, which was an amazing feat due to the current tightness of her corset. She was quite ashamed to admit she hadn't quite lost the weight she had gained during her pregnancy with Erika.

"We shall have to close the Opera Populair," Andre was saying. It seemed, to Christine, he was the only reasonable person among the group. Reyel was pacing the length of the room fanning himself with his dingy white handkerchief.

"After all that we have invested in it!" Firmen scoffed. Sweat had gathered on his bushy brow and he made no attempt to wipe it away, giving everybody something to stare at. "All my fortune, squandered."

"Don't be selfish!" Giry chastised. "We have all sacrificed our time and energy into rebuilding this opera house."

"But what good has that done us?" Reyel demanded. He briefly paused his pacing to shoot Giry a hateful look. "With no patron we shall all have to abandon all of our hard work."

"Excuse me," Christine squeaked from the doorway. All the eyes turned to her. She fought the temporary urge to shrink back; instead she stared at her simple blue frock's hem. Her cheeks flushed red and she chastised herself for acting like such a weakling. After her heated argument with Erik the night before she ought to be able to speak up when it was required. She set her jaw and looked straight of Monsieur Firmen. "I may know of a willing patron."

"Oh?" Firmen responded in a slightly mocking voice. Christine's eyes shifted as she thought of the beautiful house Erik had bought for her, or himself she hadn't quite decided what his true motives were. She was a wealthy woman of status now. It was time for them to respect her as such. "Honestly Mademoiselle Daae we don't have time to play games."

"I am no longer known as Daae," She said hotly. Everybody seemed to grow in attention at those words. "You may call me Christine Destler, or Madame Destler. Whatever suits you, I really am not partial. Are you willing hear what I have to say or would you like to further insult me by treating me like the innocent child I once was?"

It was a new experience to demand the respect that she was owed. Normally she would have been content to continue to be known as simple, sweet and unmarried. But people's jobs were at risk. Without Firmen and Andre no other man may willingly step up to manage the Opera Populair, whose reputation had become renowned.

"Yes, please, continue." Andre blinked. He didn't make any attempt to hide his shock and Christine found his unintentional honesty refreshing.

"The possible patron that I spoke of is my husband." Christine paused, allowing her words to sink in. "He is a wealthy man who has always held a strong affinity towards the arts. I am sure, once he is aware of your current situation, he would be more than willing to step in."

Madame Giry's face had paled significantly, seeing straight through Christine's loose lies. But the old woman seemed to have maintained a small ounce of sense as she said nothing to stop the young woman.

"What is his name?" Firmen asked his doubt completely chased away at the mention of wealth. "I don't know of a Destler among any of the noble folks."

"That is because he is not noble by birth," Christine hoped what she saying wouldn't completely turn them away from her plan. "He spent many years bettering himself and gathering an overwhelming fortune. Now he and I live just outside of town with our daughter."

"His name?" Firmen prompted seeing right through her unintentional evasive behavior.

"Erik, monsieur, his name is Erik Destler." She was humbled to be speaking about him so highly. After their slightly spat she was still boiling with anger towards his outburst, but personal feelings couldn't affect what she was trying to accomplish.

"Erik," Reyel mused emerging from his self cast shadows. "I think I may have heard of him. Just silly gossip really, from just outside the city of Rouen."

Christine's heart sank but tried not to let it show.

"Not much is known but the silly legends say about him," Reyel laughed nervously. "They call him some sort of evil spirit, a curse sent to a widow who was said to have been unfaithful."

"We can't rightly base these lies upon this man," Andre waved instantly silencing the maestro. "After all, Monsieur Destler sounds like the respectable sort."

They all looked to Christine, to see some form of approval. She tried to smile easily but one pair of cold brown eyes prevented her from doing so. Giry had remained tense and unwavering.

"I shall speak with him tonight." Christine finally managed. She pulled at her costume's bodice nervously and prayed no one would notice.

"Excellent," Firmen said. He waved Madame Giry and Reyel out of the office bidding them goodbye. Without further ceremony he shut the door, locking Christine inside. She gulped. "I must confess I am surprised. After what transpired after Hannibal I would have though you to have married Raoul. Instead, here you are with news of a wealthy Erik Destler as your husband."

The irony almost stirred Christine to laugh. "Yes, Monsieur, I love him very much. He has been good to me."

"I'm just pleased to see that you have escaped the grasp of our notorious Phantom," Andre said suddenly and Christine's heart flopped. "He had his hooks deep inside of you. Hopefully this Destler can chase away both Raoul and Phantom."

"He is." Christine's voice sounded frail in her ears. She hadn't been prepared for them to bring of Erik's false identity. Phantom had been a ploy, and now here they stood mocking it in front of his wife. How would they react when they found out that Erik and the Phantom were of the same entity? The same man, just changed. It would definitely be an interesting revelation to witness.

"There is, naturally, a deadline." Firmen blinked casting Christine another doubtful look. "If this Erik doesn't reply do our offer within the week we shall be forced to close the opera house."

"That's all you are giving me?" Christine gaped. How was she going to convince Erik in one week that this was a good idea?

"Surely if Monsieur Destler is, in fact, interested in becoming our new Patron this shouldn't be an issue." They really didn't know who they were messing with, especially in the current state of Erik and Christine's relationship. They had yet to make amends and there was no saying if he was still focusing on their spat.

"No, it won't be a problem." Christine's voice wavered and she scowled at its betrayal. "I shall speak with him tonight. If all goes well you should hear from him before the deadline passes."

"Good, good," Firmen nodded waving her towards the door. His cheeks had flushed an interesting shade of pink and he looked quite ill, no doubt his nerves had returned. Andre didn't seem to notice this recent change but his expression never faltered from his apprehensive countenance. "You should be on your way then. Monsieur Reyel will be eager to resume rehearsals."

Christine nodded and, without another word, briskly exited. She had barely made it down the hall when she was sabotaged by Madame Giry. The woman tightly grasped Christine's forearm and pulled her into one of the multiple rooms. The door shut behind them cloaking them in a thick darkness, only a few candles were lit and they did little to lighten the mood. Giry's face was not amused and Christine could easily assume why.

"You are putting Erik in a difficult position Christine." This wasn't at all what the young woman had expected from Giry. She would have rather been faced with harsh words, not the reality of what she had just done. "Now he will be the one to determine whether the Opera Populair remains running or if it is abandoned completely. I don't pretend to imagine he will respond well to this."

"You see me as a selfish fool, don't you?" Christine spat disgusted by the woman he had cared for her after her father's death. "If so, than you are wrong. I know Erik more intimately than you ever hoped to! Your relationship was, and still is, based on fear. I was thinking of him, not myself, when I decided to speak up. I love Erik and would do anything for him. That's more than I can say for you."

Her blood was boiling as she stormed out of the room, fumbling a little with the doorknob. Christine didn't look behind her to see Giry's face; it would only upset her further. It hadn't been easy to stand up to the only mother she had ever known. Christine was tired of being pushed around; it seemed she got it wherever she went. She was through with it.

* * *

><p>Erik sat completely enthralled with the notes that cluttered the old worn piece of parchment. He hadn't left his personal study since Christine had made her ridiculous request. He was still seething that she had acted as she. Part of him wanted to make excuses for her, but the other part was far too frustrated to care.<p>

His mind turned to his reaction. He hadn't been able to contain his frustration, instead he had reacted violently. It took most of his strength to turn and walk away. He had retreated to his self appointed music room, pounding loud notes on his piano or thrumming on his violin. The recomposition of Don Juan had been put on hold as his attention turned towards a more gruesome piece. When he fell into one of his angry fits there was no say what he would compose.

Reluctantly Erik pulled himself away from his beloved instruments. Briefly his eyes scanned the overstuffed bookshelves stocked full of memoirs and biographies of famous composers. Silently he strode forward and pulled a poorly compiled book of lost compositions. Giving his mind little time to register what he was reading, he rapidly fingered through the thick pages.

Erik closed the book and a cloud of dust tainted the air around him and he danced around it. He ambled over to the heavily draped windows and pulled the thick red curtain outside. He was slightly amused to see that the world beyond his window was already cloaked in darkness. He hadn't once left the comfort of his music room. Diana had brought Erika to him in, what he guessed was, mid-afternoon. He had sat with his beloved daughter encouraging her to pound a few untrained notes on his piano. He saw potential talent in her and it excited him.

The sound of the door being pushed open did little to convince him to greet the intruder. He assumed it was one of the servants coming to collect his tea tray, or to bring a fresh pot. Tea seemed a welcome prospect and he turned, hoping his suspicions would be proved correct. Instead Erik's eyes instantly narrowed as he looked upon his blond wife. Her demeanor was tense and slightly withdrawn as she inched closer, taking tiny steps hardly moving at all.

"Erik," she said softly. His heart couldn't help but soften, but his expression didn't show any sign of weakness. "I-I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have pushed you like I did."

He grunted and rang for the servant. Christine didn't speak up until he had ordered the servant to bring up a fresh pot of tea. By the look on Christine's face she saw it as a good sign. He'd hate to have to burst her hope but he was feeling far from forgiving.

"Can you talk to me, please," she asked stepping forward. He shook his head and took a few steps away from her. "Are you going to stay mad at me for the remainder of our marriage?"

"Don't be absurd, Christine," He rolled his eyes. He hated to seem demeaning but his patience had been frayed dramatically and spending the day secluded in a dark room hadn't helped. "I have nothing against forgetting about our misfortune last night, as long as you don't pester me about hiring Wilma."

Christine looked down at her tightly clasped hands as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. She obviously wasn't pleased about surrendering but was willing to do so in order for things to return to normal. That was all the submission he needed to see. Satisfied that he they were now putting the Wilma disagreement behind them he stepped forward and kissed her forehead. She clutched his shirt and took several deep breaths, something that always amused him.

In no time at all the tea was being delivered. Erik cleared the room and motioned for Christine to sit on the sofa. She obeyed and he poured her a cup doctoring it to her taste. He passed her the cup and she took it, shooting him a thankful smile. He sat across from her and quietly sipped his hot drink.

"Anything new to report from the Opera Populair, I do like to be kept updated?" He asked. Erik jumped when she unexpectedly launched into a coughing fit. He moved to her side and attempted to aid her somehow. Luckily she seemed to recover and regained some of her composure.

"Raoul withdrew his patronage," she announced, her voice came at a slight croak and Erik was instantly concerned about the state of her vocal chords. His brow furrowed as he mentally compiled a list of remedies to insure she didn't croak like a toad when she went to perform again. Margarita was a demanding role; she needed to be in her best health. Naturally Christine mistook his concerned expression and leapt into an over flow of explanations, "without Raoul's steady income the Opera Populair will close. Everybody's hard work to restore the opera house would go to waste; I just couldn't bare it if that happened. Reyel, Firmen and Andre all seem to agree that if another patron we might be able to survive. We only have a week and I fear the worse."

"That _is_ an incredible shame," Erik was able to hide his emotions well. He knew that if Christine saw how deeply saddened he was by this she might be apt to think up some crazy schemes. She couldn't possibly know how attached he actually was to the place he had called home for so many years. "Does Firmen and Andre have someone in mind?"

The look on Christine's face caused his heart to drop. They did and somehow, he wasn't sure exactly what had been planned, but it involved him. "What have you done?" He asked his voice a little too sharp.

"I was hoping you'd come to the conclusion on your own." She groaned rubbed her forehead, pushing her bangs aside. Erik's heart pounded in his chest as he was plagued by a parade of emotions. "I may have, sort of, volunteered a certain rich man with the name of Erik Destler."

He closed his eyes tight, silently begging her words to be false. What _had_ she done? After everything he had done to Andre and Firmen, manipulation, black mail and all the other methods he chose, she was a foolish woman to believe they would welcome him back. The very fact that she would even insult him enough to suggest such a thing angered him. He took a deep breath trying to avoid another outburst.

"You know that is impossible," he said through clenched teeth.

"Why though?" She persisted in her usual way. "We have the money, Andre and Firmen could be forced to accept your invo-."

Erik held up his hand stopping her. "Are you suggesting blackmail?" He asked stunned. "We both know how that worked last time; Andre and Firmen would revolt against me, again."

Christine was instantly silenced. Her eyes gleamed with anger and he knew she only pretended to forgive him. "Can't you see this is important to me?" She asked her tone far from begging. Erik smirked in amusement. "I don't want to see everything that I have worked for completely lost. What about Madame Giry and Meg? They are like family to me, where would they go?"

"That's not my concern Christine," He growled leaning forward. "It's not my job to worry about them, I'm sure they are more than capable than looking out for themselves."

"What about the Opera house?" She asked cocking her head. The tone of her voice revealed her desperateness. "Surely it means something to you, you can't possibly want to see it abandoned."

"Don't you dare make this my fault," he pointed at her. "You can't possibly understand the connection I have with that place. I didn't just live there, I practically built it. I'm the Opera Populair's architect and designer, without me it would only be a faded dream."

"Then don't let it fail now!" She countered. "If you care so much don't let your hard work go to waste."

"I can't Christine," He assured. "I will never be accepted among society. How would they react to the patron of the Opera Populair when they saw he wore a mask?"

"The world is changing." She said feebly.

Erik stood up, his hands twitching in their irritating way. "THE WORLD WILL NEVER CHANGE!" He exclaimed loudly. "Never, I will always be an outcast. You would be wise to accept that, just as I have. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me I would like to be left alone."

The silence stretched. Erik forced himself to turn his back on her knowing that if he looked into her eyes he wouldn't be able to stand her hurt. Was this was marriage was? Glorious at first than slowly decaying until it all collapsed around him? It seemed hardly bearable. He loved Christine so much and he knew she felt the same way, yet here she was hurting him with her expectations.

"You're turning me away?" She choked. He closed his eyes and looked down, his shoulders slumped and defeated.

"I would never turn you away," He said softly. "I just need to be alone."

"I understand." Christine's muffled cries nearly tore is heart out, but he had to be strong. When he heard the door close he returned to his piano, fingering the ivory keys long to hear its soft melodies. The tune he carved from the instrument was sad and wafted in the air leaving a bittersweet taste in his mouth. How was it possible that the woman he loved could hurt him so?


End file.
